Saving Sinners
Sermon
THE CHALLENGE OF GOD'S HARVEST
Today there is a lot of talk about what the church should really be doing. We don't want to generalize, but I suppose there's truth to saying that long-time members of the church feel that religion ought to stick to religion. They see preaching and teaching the Gospel and doctrines of our faith as the real work of the church. On the other hand the younger members of the church often see its work in more practical terms. They want religion that meets the radical social and personal needs of humanity. They stress creeds made vital by deeds.
I am not going to try and promote one of these stances over the other this morning. It's pretty obvious that the two go together. Some say we should do what we're versed in doing well - preaching Christ and saving sinners. Well, I don't know if we even do that so well all the time! And it's surely faulty reasoning to say we should stick to things we do well, if that's an excuse to by-pass other valid Christian tasks which Christ has laid upon us.
At any rate, don't think I'm being one-sided or emphasizing half the truth when I talk to you this morning about the subject of "saving sinners." That's the emphasis of the text before us. It isn't at all as if that's the only thing Jesus has in mind for his church. But in this situation here Jesus wants to make a point of it. His mission, your mission, and the mission of his church is to "save sinners." So let's pursue this one-two-three theme together now: his mission, your mission, our mission: saving sinners.
I.
The mission of Jesus Christ, the work he did here on earth, was surely to save sinners. Here in this story we have the bald description of Jesus calling St. Matthew to be one of the disciples. "Jesus left that place, and as he walked along he saw a tax collector, named Matthew sitting in his office. He said to him, 'Follow me.' And Matthew got up and followed him."
In calling Matthew to be a disciple, Jesus was calling a sinner. I mean that the sinfulness and spiritual unacceptability of Matthew were so evident as to really drive home a point. Jesus does come to deal with people in their state of sin. By the folks in Palestine here, Matthew was regarded as a kind of professional sinner. Like the harlots and street-walkers, he was expected to sin in the course of his work. Matthew was a publican - a tax collector who dealt with public money and public funds. These days we know a lot about the misuse - the sinning - that goes on in connection with public monetary matters!
The very nature of Matthew's occupation put his sanctity in jeopardy. The Roman government sold franchises to individuals to collect taxes in a defined area. The collector was expected to present the government with a certain quota of money for his area. The collector himself made a salary by seeing how much additional money he could demand - or extort - from the local citizens. There was hardly anything a tax collector could be except a sinner, one who cheated and intimidated other people fiscally. Official Jewish piety recognized this fact by relegating all tax collectors to the same level as unclean animals. They were barred from entering any synagogue or the Temple.
Now do you see what we mean when we say that Jesus came into the world to save sinners? He really does deal with sinners! He gets involved with those who are officially classified as religious outcasts. "I have not come to call the respectable people, but the outcasts." So says Jesus.
I think that this truth can be of great help to you and me, with both a comforting and a sobering effect. The feeling of encouragement and comfort we can derive is easy to spot. It's an argument from the greater to the lesser. If Jesus called Matthew, professional sinner that he was, perhaps there is also hope that I can be included on his list of disciples! Let's face it. Sometimes you and I can feel pretty low about our lack of spiritual and moral accomplishments. How could I do such a thing, we ask at times. How could I be so low? Or maybe it hurts even more when someone else says, "How could you be so low?"
Sin and the devil do sometimes get the best of us, to a degree that surprises us and catches us off guard. We have calculated our spiritual forces for good and we have surmised that we can handle moral challenges and potentially explosive moral situations quite well. But then we are amazed when the darts and arrows of Satan hit their mark and we are laid low. With the Apostle Paul we shake our heads at our own failure and exclaim, "The good that I would, I do not, and the evil that I would not, that I do. O wretched man that I am!"
Such awareness of moral and spiritual failure can leave us feeling deflated and depressed. It must have been that way for the ancient psalm writer when he prayed, "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord hear my prayer! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications. If you, Lord, should keep track of sin, O Lord, who could survive?" It's not an over-dramatization to say that in some cases you and I can feel like the world's worst sinners.
For those low times in our life it's good to know that the mission of Jesus was to save sinners. Not just the average, general, here-and-there sinners, but the professional sinners. If he calls Matthew, he may also be calling me! Thank God today that in his son, Jesus Christ, he does not only encourage us in our moral and spiritual victories, but through the cross of his blessed son he also picks us up from the depths of frustration and disappointment to pronounce us forgiven.
So this fact that Jesus calls Matthew the sinner can be a comfort to us. And it can be a sobering truth as well. Maybe some of us feel that this whole story and this whole sermon this morning isn't for us. Maybe we've spent the past several minutes mentally in applying the sermon to some other wretched soul who really ought to be here this morning listening to all of this. To us it's quite obvious that the sermon isn't very relevant or meaningful personally. Jesus calls a tax collector here. He says he's come to deal with people who need a doctor, not with those who are well. He says that the call is out to those considered outcasts, not the respectable people.
This I say is sobering, for there's nothing most of us are striving for more than to be an accepted, respectable person! We feel we've done a pretty good job at that. I am not considered a radical, and on the other hand I don't neglect my duty to others. I'm a responsible family man. I'm almost a model of what it means to provide for wife and children. At church, on the job, in school, I fit in almost perfectly. People seem to like me generally and I get along with folks. In my own mind I know that I slip a few times here and there, but others don't know it. Now and then I have a few moral ills to face, but I certainly can't be considered so bad off that a doctor should be called!
The other day, as I was sitting in the $50,000 home of a parishioner, he said to me, "You know, Pastor, Christianity is really quite a simple thing when you get down to it. For me it's like this. Every day I look around at all I have here, and I thank the good Lord for giving me all these blessings. I promise him I'll always try harder the next day, and then I go to sleep like a baby." We can't deny that God wants a kind of inner contentment for us. But somehow, in the context, the man's remarks struck me as being too simple an explanation. They struck me very much as being the words of a "respectable Christian." The fellow might be insulted at any slight suggestion of a need for a spiritual doctor.
But Jesus Christ comes as such a physician. He comes to save sinners. Sometimes we may be radically conscious of our need for the Savior. Our sins cpn depress us so. But there is the other side, too - regarding ourselves as too respectable a soul. In many cases we may find it hard to tune in to a Christ who saves sinners, for everything seems to be going so well with us.
This morning we are here to affirm that whether in the conscious depths of our sin or in a proud unawareness of spiritual need, Christ comes to rescue us. His mission is to save sinners.
II.
And that is our personal mission too. As persons who know God's forgiveness through the cross of Christ, we are called to communicate such spiritual healing to others. Christ came to save Matthew the sinner, but Christ also called Matthew to carry out the disciple-work of proclaiming this salvation to others.
Keeping in mind Jesus' radical definition of "sinner" as being those in need of a doctor, those who are outcasts and not respectable, I wonder how many of us are truly involved in Christ's work of saving sinners. Most of the time I find myself associating with quite respectable people. I interact and talk with those who are leading a normal life, as I think I am. But when things get challenging for another person, I excuse myself with the idea that it's their business, not mine. When someone else's marriage is falling apart, perhaps for selfish and sinful reasons known to me, I remind myself that it's best not to get involved. Should I really have a chance to deal with an honest-to-goodness "outcast," like a former convict or a welfare mother or a black father of thirteen children, I might just tell myself that I don't have what it takes to communicate with such people. Well to whom do I communicate the Gospel that Christ saves sinners? Whom do I really help spiritually along the way? Anyone?
III.
We often write off our own personal call to be on Christ's mission of saving sinners by saying that this is the church's work. So what about my church? How about my local parish or my denomination or the entire institutional church in the world? To what "sinners" are we communicating the Gospel message? Is ours a church for outcasts?
The other day the former national moderator of the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. told me that over 90% of her denomination's membership was exactly like she was - white, slightly suburban, and spending a family income of over $15,000 a year. I dare say the description for our Lutheran denomination is closely similar. It's not that being a white, middle-class Protestant is sinful. But the homogeneity among us causes me to wonder whether we are really engaged in the mission of Christ to save sinners. Our striking likenesses maybesuggest that we are communicating a Gospel of respectability to one another and no Gospel at all to honest-to-goodness outcasts.
Jesus says in this text, "I do not want animal sacrifices, but kindness." This is about to say, "I don't want the non-active institutional type religion as a sign of my church. What I want is the acting out of kindness and healing and rescue to those whom society has dubbed and dumped as being unworthy. Jesus himself fulfilled that mission. St. Paul says, "While we were still sinning, Christ died for us." To you and me and to the church, the call still goes out. Right when people are considered to be sinners and outcasts we are to come to them and sit at their table and bring the healing Word of forgiveness. That was Christ's mission, and it is ours.
I am not going to try and promote one of these stances over the other this morning. It's pretty obvious that the two go together. Some say we should do what we're versed in doing well - preaching Christ and saving sinners. Well, I don't know if we even do that so well all the time! And it's surely faulty reasoning to say we should stick to things we do well, if that's an excuse to by-pass other valid Christian tasks which Christ has laid upon us.
At any rate, don't think I'm being one-sided or emphasizing half the truth when I talk to you this morning about the subject of "saving sinners." That's the emphasis of the text before us. It isn't at all as if that's the only thing Jesus has in mind for his church. But in this situation here Jesus wants to make a point of it. His mission, your mission, and the mission of his church is to "save sinners." So let's pursue this one-two-three theme together now: his mission, your mission, our mission: saving sinners.
I.
The mission of Jesus Christ, the work he did here on earth, was surely to save sinners. Here in this story we have the bald description of Jesus calling St. Matthew to be one of the disciples. "Jesus left that place, and as he walked along he saw a tax collector, named Matthew sitting in his office. He said to him, 'Follow me.' And Matthew got up and followed him."
In calling Matthew to be a disciple, Jesus was calling a sinner. I mean that the sinfulness and spiritual unacceptability of Matthew were so evident as to really drive home a point. Jesus does come to deal with people in their state of sin. By the folks in Palestine here, Matthew was regarded as a kind of professional sinner. Like the harlots and street-walkers, he was expected to sin in the course of his work. Matthew was a publican - a tax collector who dealt with public money and public funds. These days we know a lot about the misuse - the sinning - that goes on in connection with public monetary matters!
The very nature of Matthew's occupation put his sanctity in jeopardy. The Roman government sold franchises to individuals to collect taxes in a defined area. The collector was expected to present the government with a certain quota of money for his area. The collector himself made a salary by seeing how much additional money he could demand - or extort - from the local citizens. There was hardly anything a tax collector could be except a sinner, one who cheated and intimidated other people fiscally. Official Jewish piety recognized this fact by relegating all tax collectors to the same level as unclean animals. They were barred from entering any synagogue or the Temple.
Now do you see what we mean when we say that Jesus came into the world to save sinners? He really does deal with sinners! He gets involved with those who are officially classified as religious outcasts. "I have not come to call the respectable people, but the outcasts." So says Jesus.
I think that this truth can be of great help to you and me, with both a comforting and a sobering effect. The feeling of encouragement and comfort we can derive is easy to spot. It's an argument from the greater to the lesser. If Jesus called Matthew, professional sinner that he was, perhaps there is also hope that I can be included on his list of disciples! Let's face it. Sometimes you and I can feel pretty low about our lack of spiritual and moral accomplishments. How could I do such a thing, we ask at times. How could I be so low? Or maybe it hurts even more when someone else says, "How could you be so low?"
Sin and the devil do sometimes get the best of us, to a degree that surprises us and catches us off guard. We have calculated our spiritual forces for good and we have surmised that we can handle moral challenges and potentially explosive moral situations quite well. But then we are amazed when the darts and arrows of Satan hit their mark and we are laid low. With the Apostle Paul we shake our heads at our own failure and exclaim, "The good that I would, I do not, and the evil that I would not, that I do. O wretched man that I am!"
Such awareness of moral and spiritual failure can leave us feeling deflated and depressed. It must have been that way for the ancient psalm writer when he prayed, "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord hear my prayer! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications. If you, Lord, should keep track of sin, O Lord, who could survive?" It's not an over-dramatization to say that in some cases you and I can feel like the world's worst sinners.
For those low times in our life it's good to know that the mission of Jesus was to save sinners. Not just the average, general, here-and-there sinners, but the professional sinners. If he calls Matthew, he may also be calling me! Thank God today that in his son, Jesus Christ, he does not only encourage us in our moral and spiritual victories, but through the cross of his blessed son he also picks us up from the depths of frustration and disappointment to pronounce us forgiven.
So this fact that Jesus calls Matthew the sinner can be a comfort to us. And it can be a sobering truth as well. Maybe some of us feel that this whole story and this whole sermon this morning isn't for us. Maybe we've spent the past several minutes mentally in applying the sermon to some other wretched soul who really ought to be here this morning listening to all of this. To us it's quite obvious that the sermon isn't very relevant or meaningful personally. Jesus calls a tax collector here. He says he's come to deal with people who need a doctor, not with those who are well. He says that the call is out to those considered outcasts, not the respectable people.
This I say is sobering, for there's nothing most of us are striving for more than to be an accepted, respectable person! We feel we've done a pretty good job at that. I am not considered a radical, and on the other hand I don't neglect my duty to others. I'm a responsible family man. I'm almost a model of what it means to provide for wife and children. At church, on the job, in school, I fit in almost perfectly. People seem to like me generally and I get along with folks. In my own mind I know that I slip a few times here and there, but others don't know it. Now and then I have a few moral ills to face, but I certainly can't be considered so bad off that a doctor should be called!
The other day, as I was sitting in the $50,000 home of a parishioner, he said to me, "You know, Pastor, Christianity is really quite a simple thing when you get down to it. For me it's like this. Every day I look around at all I have here, and I thank the good Lord for giving me all these blessings. I promise him I'll always try harder the next day, and then I go to sleep like a baby." We can't deny that God wants a kind of inner contentment for us. But somehow, in the context, the man's remarks struck me as being too simple an explanation. They struck me very much as being the words of a "respectable Christian." The fellow might be insulted at any slight suggestion of a need for a spiritual doctor.
But Jesus Christ comes as such a physician. He comes to save sinners. Sometimes we may be radically conscious of our need for the Savior. Our sins cpn depress us so. But there is the other side, too - regarding ourselves as too respectable a soul. In many cases we may find it hard to tune in to a Christ who saves sinners, for everything seems to be going so well with us.
This morning we are here to affirm that whether in the conscious depths of our sin or in a proud unawareness of spiritual need, Christ comes to rescue us. His mission is to save sinners.
II.
And that is our personal mission too. As persons who know God's forgiveness through the cross of Christ, we are called to communicate such spiritual healing to others. Christ came to save Matthew the sinner, but Christ also called Matthew to carry out the disciple-work of proclaiming this salvation to others.
Keeping in mind Jesus' radical definition of "sinner" as being those in need of a doctor, those who are outcasts and not respectable, I wonder how many of us are truly involved in Christ's work of saving sinners. Most of the time I find myself associating with quite respectable people. I interact and talk with those who are leading a normal life, as I think I am. But when things get challenging for another person, I excuse myself with the idea that it's their business, not mine. When someone else's marriage is falling apart, perhaps for selfish and sinful reasons known to me, I remind myself that it's best not to get involved. Should I really have a chance to deal with an honest-to-goodness "outcast," like a former convict or a welfare mother or a black father of thirteen children, I might just tell myself that I don't have what it takes to communicate with such people. Well to whom do I communicate the Gospel that Christ saves sinners? Whom do I really help spiritually along the way? Anyone?
III.
We often write off our own personal call to be on Christ's mission of saving sinners by saying that this is the church's work. So what about my church? How about my local parish or my denomination or the entire institutional church in the world? To what "sinners" are we communicating the Gospel message? Is ours a church for outcasts?
The other day the former national moderator of the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. told me that over 90% of her denomination's membership was exactly like she was - white, slightly suburban, and spending a family income of over $15,000 a year. I dare say the description for our Lutheran denomination is closely similar. It's not that being a white, middle-class Protestant is sinful. But the homogeneity among us causes me to wonder whether we are really engaged in the mission of Christ to save sinners. Our striking likenesses maybesuggest that we are communicating a Gospel of respectability to one another and no Gospel at all to honest-to-goodness outcasts.
Jesus says in this text, "I do not want animal sacrifices, but kindness." This is about to say, "I don't want the non-active institutional type religion as a sign of my church. What I want is the acting out of kindness and healing and rescue to those whom society has dubbed and dumped as being unworthy. Jesus himself fulfilled that mission. St. Paul says, "While we were still sinning, Christ died for us." To you and me and to the church, the call still goes out. Right when people are considered to be sinners and outcasts we are to come to them and sit at their table and bring the healing Word of forgiveness. That was Christ's mission, and it is ours.
