New Thoughts (03/30/11-04/08/11)
I begin with a technical item. This comes of reading too many translations. The opening of this parable in Matthew’s account contains a familiar formula: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to”, at least this is how the NASB and many others translate the Greek. But, I come to Darby’s translation and read, “The kingdom of the heavens has become like”, and Young’s Literal Translation offers, “The reign of the heavens was likened to”. What has me curious is the variety in the implied timing. The majority of translators leave it in the present, but there are these two outliers, both painting backwards to something previous.
A very brief survey of other places where Jesus has used this phrasing indicate a bit of variety as to what He actually said. In some cases, we have this same formula in the same tense, mood, and voice. In other cases, although the translations come across as though it were again the same phrase, it is actually marginally different, and moves from the aorist passive indicative into the present active indicative. An example of this is Matthew 13:47, where the kingdom homoia estin: is like. Here in Matthew 22:2, the kingdom hoomoioothee. Ought we to read more into this than that Jesus liked to change things up? The only real distinction I can find is that in the first case we could take this as “is the same as”, whereas in the current instance, we could reduce this to “is like or similar to”. But, that may be seeking more nuance than is intended.
As to the peculiarities of translation in Darby and Young, I could note that both these translations tend to come off as peculiar given their attempts at being particularly literal. For instance, they will often leave noun / verb ordering reversed in the Greek fashion rather than as we might expect to find them in English. Here, we may be observing an attempt to render the temporal aspect of the aorist tense. But, at least by Wheeler’s estimation, there may be no such aspect intended. The indicative mood does, it is true, relay the sense of a matter already accomplished. But, it can also be reduced to indicating simply a certainty in the matter. In other words, it may not yet be realized, but its eventual realization is assured. We might put our Christian hope in that category. We have not yet realized our entrance into the heavenly realms, but it is certain.
As I say, this is a technical matter, probably no more than a technicality. I do find cause to probe a little deeper when I find such non-obvious variations in the readings, though. Would it matter? When Darby indicates that the kingdom has become like, this suggests to me a recent change of state. It used to be otherwise, but now it’s like this. Yet, that would seem to fly against the larger Truth of Scripture. If I take Young’s reading that the kingdom was likened to this wedding feast, well, there’s certainly truth to that. Survey the parallel verses to this passage, and we quickly arrive in Isaiah doing exactly this thing: describing God laying out a wedding feast, and the image of Israel as His bride is nothing new. Although the bridal figure does not play an immediate role in this parable, it might come to mind for those listening, mightn’t it?
Actually, that brings on a curious thought: Would they have expected to hear their part in the parable as that of the bride rather than as the guests? I don’t know for certain. I may or may not come back to this thought.
The thing that strikes me as regards the matter of tenses and timing is that, were I to take Young’s understanding of the kingdom was likened to a wedding feast, it offers some thin veneer of support for a theory that’s been forming as I read through these two parables. The question that arises for me is whether Jesus was intentionally repurposing a parable He had used before. That support, however, is neither sufficient to prove my point, nor particularly needed in that regard.
Years back, I read a text on the parables which was inclined to view all matters of variation between their recording by each of the Evangelists as evidence of how those parables were revamped to suit the needs of the church as it grew. Take the case before us. Even though pretty much every Bible translation that includes cross references between the Gospels will indicate that these two texts cover the same parable. And yet, both in setting and in content, the two accounts are far more different than they are alike. It’s difficult to place the event in Luke’s accounting, for it comes in the midst of what would appear to be a collection of teachings. The one clue he gives us in the immediate vicinity is that Jesus is at table, perhaps at a dinner party like that which He speaks of in this parable. But, it is clearly set earlier in the course of His ministry, when He was still followed by ‘great multitudes’. Matthew, on the other hand, indicates that this parable is spoken very near the end of the ministry, after the confrontation with the priests and Pharisees in the courts of the Temple.
Beyond this, the parable as it is relayed by Luke is condensed so as to become but one aspect of the parable relayed by Matthew. Aha! Say the critical analysts. See? Matthew reshaped the thing to make a point about the state of the church in his time. Or, is it that Luke reshaped it to make it more clearly indicate the inclusion of the Gentiles? Well, let me suggest what ought to be a more obvious answer. Jesus Himself reshaped His own earlier parables to arrive at a new one with a distinctly different message to deliver. And why shouldn’t He? What cause do we have to suppose that there must be some hidden hand of the authors involved here? Even though I have opted to consider the two together, at least as my outlining of the four Gospels has arranged things, let me work instead from the position that these really are two separate parables delivered on two separate occasions to address two separate points. Given that, I will cover Luke’s account first, as it would seem to be the earlier occasion.
Notice, in that accounting, what the immediate prompt is which leads to Jesus delivering His parable. One of those who has been listening to Him blurts out, “Blessed is everyone who shall eat bread in the kingdom of God” (Lk 14:15)! This man is, of course, quite correct. In fact, we have Scripture itself to support that. In the Revelation, we are granted to hear from that voice which came from the throne (Rev 19:5), “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb” (Rev 19:9). In fact, that Voice gives instruction to John to write that message down, with the added comment that, “These are true words of God.” If true then, then those words were just as true which this man at the dinner has said. Whatever, then, we make of Jesus’ parable, it is no rebuke of that exclamation which prompted it. He is not refuting the man’s point, then, but amplifying upon it.
What seems to have led Jesus to expound as He does is the concept of blessing. What does it mean to be blessed? This is something we get wrong all the time, even though we know better. Just consider: what is your situation when you are feeling particularly blessed? You are surrounded by family and they’re all healthy and happy, your employment is secure and paying you well, food is plentiful, clothing comfortable, the weather is an ideal 72 degrees and the sun is shining. As we might say, all is right with our world. This is what we measure as blessing. It is not, however, what it means to be blessed of God.
Is there happiness in blessing? Oh, to be sure, but not everything that makes us feel happy in this life is something we ought to count as blessing. Nor is everything that causes us to feel sorrow necessarily anti-blessing. To be blessed is not a function of circumstance, so much. It’s not an issue of feelings and emotions, although it is our tendency to measure our blessed estate by such means. It’s certainly not a matter of acquisition. How much we have does not define how blessed we are. How little we have does not define how blessed we are not. Pure and simple, we are talking about the blessings of God, and in that regard the issues of this life have no bearing whatsoever.
That is not to say that this life doesn’t matter. That is certainly not to say that we ought to become so singularly focused on the spiritual life to come as to effectively neglect the life we now live. That’s not the point. Let me borrow from Zhodiates to explain the situation. In his description of this word makarios, he makes the point specifically that blessedness is distinct from happiness. The thing that truly makes us blessed is this: We are indwelt by God. This certainly ought to be a matter that leaves us fully satisfied. And, as Paul so beautifully declares the case in his letters, it ought to leave us satisfied regardless of circumstances. When our thinking is as it should be, I would propose, we ought to be happy. We ought to be happy because we know we are indwelt by God. Whatever is going on in our lives, this fact goes unchanged and unchangeable. Whatever may come against us, God is with us. He never leaves nor forsakes. He never slumbers or sleeps. He declared ages ago that by His own right arm He would achieve His purpose in and for us, and from the cross He shouted, “It is finished!” What else could we be looking for that would satisfy more than that?
Now, I say, that is how we ought to consider the matter. More often than not, though, it is not how we consider the matter. Honestly, when one is confronted by a chronic illness which, in spite of all prayer and all efforts to address the problem, appears to get worse instead of better, it is particularly difficult to hold on to such a mindset. I can tell you, as well, that it matters little whether you are the one with the illness, or whether it is afflicting somebody you love. This is a situation that will test, if not your faith, then at the very least, your perspective on blessing. If you’ve still got this sense that to be blessed means a life with no problems, no needs and even no wants, this will shake that viewpoint from you or it will leave you shaken.
In the West, we have a particularly strong penchant for associating blessedness with wealth. Why, look at that mansion he dwelt in! He must be blessed indeed! Look at the cars he has, what a blessed life! And what blessing could possibly outstrip having accumulated enough in one’s accounts as not to need to work any longer? This is how we think. We’re hardly the first to think that way. Moses famously warned the Israelites before ever they set foot in the Land of Promise. Oh! That land! Remember the spies’ description of it? Grapevines from which a single cluster required two men to bear, lowing with milk and honey, thick with groves and vineyards. And, were this not enough, they were told by God that there were plenteous ores and minerals buried beneath its soils. In short, they were being provided for extravagantly. But, there came a caution: When you’re all fat and happy in this land, watch out! Your natural tendency will be to start congratulating yourself for how well you’ve done for yourself, and you will forget the God Who provided all of this marvelous abundance.
Indeed, as we considered the upcoming service at worship practice last night, we looked back at the parable of the rich young ruler, and its surrounds. When Jesus spoke of how difficult it was for the rich to enter heaven, the disciples were near despair, thinking out loud, “Who, then, can hope to make it” (Mt 19:25)? This is the way we think, just as it is the way they were thinking. If somebody is destitute, our immediate assumption is that they don’t know God. If only they would come to Him they would be lifted out of this condition. Perhaps they would, but then, perhaps they are already in God’s kingdom with just as great a certainty as we. We don’t know. Jesus made the point bluntly clear when He was asked about that man born blind. What was the assumption? Somebody must have sinned big time for him to be thus afflicted. And what did Jesus say? No. This is for the glory of God. WHAT? How can You even suggest such a thing? God glorified by blinding a man for life? No, but of course, the glory was to be found in what would immediately follow.
This same question plagues us every time there’s a disaster somewhere in the world. How can it be that a good God would allow such a thing? Well, I can’t answer that in any great detail, but I can say this: to bring Himself glory. Now, it’s possible that this glory is to come from the punishment of evil. It’s possible, but it’s not necessary to view every negative event in that light. It’s possible that He is moving a heart closer to Himself. It’s possible that we just plain don’t understand at all. It’s possible, even probable, that our definition of goodness is so off base as to render any opinion we might have on the subject utterly valueless.
Blessedness isn’t about how well stocked your pantry is, how fat your accounts, how perfect your health and well-toned your muscles. None of that. Blessedness isn’t about our earthly condition at all, really. It’s about our eternal condition: God-indwelt, and granted entry into that very eternal life which our forefather Adam traded away in the Fall.
Just consider that for a moment. Adam considered the knowledge of good and evil to be of greater value than life. I could be tempted to short-hand that as him having considered knowledge to be greater than life, but that overstates (or understates) the case. It was that specific aspect of knowledge, that which would put him, or so he was promised, on a par with God Himself. Turns out even that promise was a lie. For to this day our understanding of what constitutes good and what constitutes evil is not only imperfect, but often baseless. What is good, we tend to think, is what I like. What is evil is whatever prevents me from having or doing what I like.
I think I should have a limitless supply of music that I enjoy listening to, an infinite variety! Anything, then, that contributes to that supply is, by my definition, good. And, anything that prevents me from adding to that supply is evil. Of course, that’s really just covetousness and greed, isn’t it? I mean, one thing that prevents me is lack of funds. Therefore, my reasoning will continue, that I don’t earn enough to be a spendthrift goes in the evil column. If I can find means of gaining that music for free, though, whatever the legal implications might be, and whatever wrong that might do to those who made the music in the first place, hey! It’s good! It feeds my pleasure centers, therefore it must be.
This is how our thinking runs, if left unchecked by God. This is what we gained by that knowledge of good and evil. We have at least learned that there are such things as good and evil, but apart from God, we are forever at a loss to figure out which is truly which. And for this, our forebears threw away life in eternal perfection. Truth be told, we would probably have done the same, for we don’t know how to be satisfied.
From what I read in the parable Luke presents, this condition of ours is very much a part of what Jesus is addressing. He’s certainly not suggesting that to be there at heaven’s dinner table is not a blessing. What He’s doing is applying some correction to our understanding of what it is to be blessed. This is one cause for Him to lay out the nature of the excuses the original invitees make. They are well off in worldly terms. The first is buying land, a mark of a man of wealth. The second has just procured five yoke of oxen. Doesn’t mean much to us, I suppose, but the NET footnotes note that the average man would be happy to have one team. This is a wealthy man. The one who just married: There are implications there. He has built a home for himself and his bride. He has saved up and delivered the bride price. He has established himself as a man ready and able to prepare for his family.
I may read more into this than the parable requires, but I note that the one throwing the dinner party has but one slave to send out to all these wealthy folk. For him, the expense of this dinner is great. Having helped underwrite a wedding not so long ago, and knowing families facing that same stage of life for their daughters, this I can relate to. For better or for worse, we as a society have made quite the industry out of marriage, and where there is an industry, there is a marketplace ready to maximize its profits. If an average dress runs $80, a wedding dress can be expected to run $8000. Why? Because the market will bear it. We surely won’t deny our darling princess the best on this special day! And, who defines the best? The man behind the counter.
Don’t get me wrong. A wedding is a matter to celebrate, and to celebrate well! By all means. But, it’s a costly endeavor. As concerns the parable or parables set before us, that expense ought to be kept in mind. Those rejecting the invitation are men of means, so the cost of this feast might be a small thing to them. No big deal. But, to the one providing the feast, it is a great cost, and to spend so much only to find it completely wasted is beyond bearing.
As to the intended meaning of the parable as presented in Luke, the focus is twofold. There is first that ingratitude displayed by those who refuse to come at the calling. Second, there is the expansiveness of that calling. The invitation to this feast, once at least seemingly reserved to the select few, is now opened up to even the most unlikely and even unthinkable of guests.
The contrast between those first invitees and the ones who actually come to the feast is shocking, and intentionally so. As has been said, those first invited were, by the evidence of the parable, men of means. Those who come in their place are destitute, diseased, hopeless wretches. Oh, and that’s not enough to satisfy the man giving this dinner. He’s even brought in the Goyem! Has he no shame? To those who rejected the invitation, this list of new invitees is beyond comprehension. To invite such as these into one’s house! Unclean! The thoughts of Simon the Pharisee on that occasion when Jesus’ feet were anointed by a woman of ill repute would apply: Were He a prophet, He would surely not allow such a thing near Himself.
Yet, the kingdom, as this parable explains, is being given to just such people. Why is that, do you suppose? I would offer that a large part of this has to do with gratitude. Those who are forgiven much love much (Lk 7:42-47). (I’ll note in passing that Jesus actually turns that around by the end of His point, saying that she is forgiven much because she loved much, but the point remains.) Of course, those who love much in response to this great forgiveness must first recognize that there has been something forgiven. That love is an expression of gratitude for the immense relief that has been experienced.
Why were those rich men so ungrateful? I dare say it is because they neither recognized their forgiven state, nor even that they had ought to be forgiven of. In spite of the formal expressions of regret in their demurrals, they really don’t see any wrong in themselves. They are good men, certainly better than most. If they were not, God would not have blessed them with such bounty. And, as this bounty is from Him, it would practically be sinful not to enjoy it.
So are we seduced by our own thinking, and that thinking is not wholly devoid of truth. Surely, to despise the gifts God gives us in this life is to insult the Giver. Yet, to insist upon one’s right to those gifts, and to cling to those gifts when the Giver Himself is calling for something greater, for fellowship, this is as insulting if not more. We know of this from our own experience, do we not? If I give my wife some gift that has her so enthralled as to forget I’m even in the room, and to continue in that state for days on end, how happy am I likely to be? If I grant my daughter a favor, and she just runs off to whatever that favor may entail without so much as a thank you, indeed, doesn’t even bother to call home any longer thereafter, how pleased shall I be with this object of my giving?
Yet, this is often the treatment God gets from His children. He gives, we take. We become so wrapped up in the stuff He has given us that we have no further thought towards Him – until the next moment of want. Note, I don’t say need, for truly He does not leave us in need, whatever our own opinions on the matter may be. I am, I realize, speaking this point to myself as much as anybody, because I am entirely too adept at losing sight of this truth. Today, I perceive many needs in my life which I am not at liberty to address, and not presently in position to care for in my own strength – as if I am ever fit to care for anything in my own strength! To me, they are needs. Life itself would become impossible without them. All right, it’s hardly stuff of that magnitude, yet the thought life pumps it up to that level. What? Reduced to one car, and that, a car I alone can drive? How will we live? What will come of us if I should need to go away for a week? How will they get groceries to the house? What if there’s an emergency?
Honestly, this is a line of thought that is very much current and to the point. It is, for the near term, precisely where we find ourselves. Finances do not permit of as immediate a replacement of our second vehicle as seems necessary. Indeed, it’s been a bit of scratching to keep one on the road, and that second one we’ve been milking along for more than a year since it was clearly due for retirement. Now, having peeked under the hood yesterday, I wouldn’t wish to drive it farther than the trade-in lot, assuming it can manage that trip. It’s served us well, but time’s up.
Meanwhile, my beloved wife is dealing with recurring, chronic health issues that are all but completely debilitating, and yet I have this pending work related trip out of state, leaving no functioning vehicle at the house for a week. Never mind that, though. What’s she to do when and if there is a bout of illness? Who will look after her? God, what are You doing? This is my world at present. And into that, comes this message: He does not leave us in need. Whatever our own opinions on the matter may be, this remains Truth. He may allow us to want. It is, in reality, a good thing to experience want. As great a fan as I am of instant gratification, it is necessary to our spiritual health to know the occasional deferral or even outright denial. Our wants are so rarely matters of worth. Very rarely.
And, over against those wants of ours, the King of all Creation has laid out this most marvelous of gifts: “As My Father granted me the kingdom, I grant you to join Me at My table in My kingdom to eat and drink” (Lk 22:29). This lies at the very core of the parable before us. I have granted you the utmost boon, and how are you responding to that? Those in the first rank decided that their wants outweighed His marvelous gift. Sadly for them, His response was, “Fine, then be satisfied with your wants.” May we never hear such words! But, where there is gratitude, where there is that loving response to such a wonderful and unexpected gesture, the gates are flung wide, and every possible means taken to make that one welcome.
One last point here, before I go prepare for work: There is a bit of a hint in the story line that even if those first invitees had accepted, very little would have changed in what follows. Consider: Those who rejected the call were few in number. Yet, even when all the hard cases from the streets had been called in, the dining room was far from filled. What this suggests, and what the rest of Scripture’s story will certainly bear witness to, is that the dinner was always planned to include those from the streets and those from the country. This is a big deal, this dinner. It’s on a scale that even Rome at its most decadent would have difficulty imagining. Indeed, so great is that feasting hall that to this day, the invitations are still going out, and the invitees coming in.
This, then, gives us a pretty good sense of the parable recorded by Luke. That being the case, I shall turn to the parable Matthew relays. As with much of the timing and ordering of events in this climactic week, the exact point at which the chief priests and the scribes and the Pharisees come and go is not entirely clear as one stitches together the several accounts. As I have sought to organize the results, I followed Mark’s conclusion to the preceding parable: “They left Him and went away” (Mk 12:12b). But, here, Matthew follows this parable with the comment that the Pharisees went and counseled together (Mt 22:15). Meanwhile, it’s pretty clear that the more general crowd has not budged.
What conclusion to draw? Let me propose that the priests and their scribes, those on the Council, left after the combined assault of the two preceding parables (Mt 21:28-32, Mt 21:33-46), but that left many Pharisees to remain listening, perhaps dodging the implications by thinking that was a fine message for the Council, but really didn’t apply to them, did it? If this is the case, then the parable we are now looking at leaves less room for such a conclusion.
That being said, it strikes me that Jesus is really addressing that more general crowd this time, albeit with an eye towards those of His enemies still standing within. As I have been commenting, there are several threads in this parable that recall previous teachings. Whereas there is that theory that this shows evidence of the Church tampering with the record, I am inclined to hold that Jesus is intentionally drawing on parables known to His followers. Consider this possibility with me briefly.
Jesus opens with a fairly common introduction, indicating that He is once more discussing the nature of God’s kingdom. This offers at least a suggestion that He is speaking to His own here, and not directly assaulting the opposition. Then, we are drawn into a scene very reminiscent of that parable Luke relates, although with alterations. Primarily, that alteration lies in the fact that the focus is rather more upon the one hosting the dinner, and the nature of that dinner, than it is on those original invitees. Note that where the parable in Luke relays the nature of the excuses offered, and thereby hints at the wealth of those begging off, here it is summary in nature, focused differently: “They paid no attention” (v5). Then, of course, the dinner, which was but a generic feast in that earlier parable, is not specifically noted as a royal wedding feast. This amplifies the criminal nature of their treatment of the king’s slaves. Imagine! Wrong enough to abuse and kill another’s slave (ignoring our modern and wholly appropriate disgust at the thought of slavery in general), but to do so to the property of your king? This ought to be unthinkable unless one is prepared to foment a revolution rather immediately. But, their alternate activities are not such as fit that scenario. They’re blowing off the King to pursue their mundane chores. I hope to come back to that point, but for the moment, I want to continue the thought at hand.
So, those listening, or at least the more observant among them, might well be recalling that earlier parable, nodding to themselves in anticipation of how the lesson will now unfold. For them, there is an abrupt shift encountered. We arrive at verse 7, and hear that the king, learning of what had happened, sent his army to wipe out not only those who had so abused his slaves, but their entire city! Whoa! This wasn’t in that other parable. It does echo, in its way, the message of that first parable of the Vineyard that Jesus had just spoke, but what was only suggested as the outcome there is here presented as accomplished fact. Again, the more attentive, if they understood that first parable, might tremble for Jerusalem upon hearing this. Those Pharisees still in the crowd ought surely to be concerned. If they thought it was just those other guys being singled out before, this makes clear that they will no more escape judgment than those others. Why? Well, for one thing, they did nothing to stop the injustice, thereby becoming guilty in their own right.
There is another relayed by Luke which speaks of that one who went to receive a kingdom, but his citizens sent after him indicating that they would not have this man rule over them (Lk 19:12-27). This comes as part of the Parable of the Talents, and it is suggested that the inspiration for that particular bit about the unwanted ruler was at least partly inspired by events in the life of Herod Antipas, and those quite current at the time. Here, that point is echoed in the response of the king to those who ignored His call to the feast. Whether this is an intentional echo of that earlier parable or not is, of course, impossible to say. But, again we might suppose that some in the crowd might be recalling that parable as they hear the added note in this one.
From this point, the flow of the parable diverges further from what we read in Luke. Rather than the expansiveness of the king’s response that we saw in Luke, here the focus is shifted to the quality of those he calls in to replace the original invitees, and the fact that this crowd includes “both evil and good” (v10). Again, the listener might hear this as little more than collapsing the more elaborated original. They might even go so far as to suppose that Jesus was clarifying that business with the Goyem being invited. See? Invited, but surely they’re in that evil group. More to the point, this ties the message of the parable very neatly with that of such earlier parables as the parable of the Wheat and the Tares (Mt 13:24-30), and the parable of the Dragnet (Mt 13:47-51). Looking at that portion of Scripture, I am rather amused to see the comment that follows. “Therefore every scribe who has become a disciple of the kingdom of heaven is like a head of a household, who brings forth out of his treasure things new and old” (Mt 13:52). Isn’t that just what we’re seeing with this parable?
You know, we have this sense of Jesus being the consummate teacher, the ultimate wielder of the parable, and a marvelous weaver of stories. As we see Him teaching, we get the sense that He just looks at whatever is happening in the vicinity, points it out to His listeners and launches into an exposition of just how those activities reflect the kingdom of God, what they can teach us in that regard. Marvelous! Here, however, if I follow my line of thought regarding His repurposing of earlier messages, I find His genius simply that much greater. Over and over again, His regular listeners, His disciples may feel that they know where He’s headed with this parable, and over and over again, He sends them into a tailspin as the arc of His story veers from what preceded.
So, we’ve seen Him go through the earlier format of this dinner message, only to arrive at a scene of destruction right in the midst of the telling! Never mind the improbability of the timing. I mean, the feast is ready. Who’s got time to mount up the army for an assault while the meal grows cold? Parable is not intended to be picked apart with that degree of attention to detail. The point is that the punishment was swift, thorough, and widespread. Those who thought to escape because they were not actively part of the offense were quite incorrect. Their sins of omission would be addressed right along with the sins of commission which those most active rebels had committed.
But, then, there’s that second jarring of the narrative, as we return to the matter of the dinner. Ah, just go find whoever will come. Good, bad, it makes no difference. I want this hall filled! We’re more or less back on the original theme of inclusiveness, although the wording might strike one as a tad unexpected. But, we’re back in comfortable, we’ve heard this message before, territory. However, that comfort lasts but a moment before Jesus takes His final corner.
With the inspection of the guests, we have arrived at someplace utterly unpredictable. They were invited, and now the king is going to judge them for being here? But, the issue is once more that of neglect and disrespect. Those original invitees had shown it more overtly. But, here we have a guest who came for the food, but couldn’t be bothered with the minimal requirements placed upon him for attendance. It wasn’t as if he had been required to go out and buy his own wedding clothes for the occasion. They were provided him. And still, he couldn’t be bothered to put them on!
Now we are arrived at the central point of the telling of this parable. “For many are called, but few are chosen” (v14). The whole of this parable, with all its threads of previous parables, is aimed at this single point. It is a point that is echoed and re-echoed from here to the end of Scripture. It’s not enough to count yourself amongst those called. Look at verses 9-10 again. Grab whoever you find and invite them. The call is ultra inclusive. The sower of the seed in the Parable of the Seed and the Soils was given that same message. Give it to everybody and anybody. If there’s any sign whatsoever of a response, accept it as genuine. You’re not here to try and figure out who’s legitimate and who’s not. You’re not fit for that task. That will be sorted out in due time. Your mission is only to spread the Word. Leave the results to God.
The corollary caution is that we dare not ever to assume that all who come to church of a Sunday are truly to be counted as members of the kingdom. This is not a matter that should cause us to become suspicious of our fellows, but a matter that should leave us prayerful for the condition of their souls and, quite frankly, prayerful for the condition of our own. Work out your salvation, and that with fear and trembling, knowing God is working in you for His ends (Php 2:12-13). Be diligent to present yourself to God as one with no cause to be ashamed, but accurately understanding and applying the Word of Truth (2Ti 2:15). Be diligent to enter His rest, and not to fall by pursuing the example of disobedience (Heb 4:11). Be diligent to be found in peace, spotless and blameless, by Him, and consider His patience your salvation (2Pe 3:14-15). One could add any number of other admonishments from the Apostles to this list.
My sense of the matter is that it is this personal caution that Jesus has foremost in His mind with this parable’s telling. Don’t assume you’re in just because you’re an Israelite. Don’t assume you’re in just because you’re a Pharisee. Don’t assume you’re in just because you’re not as Pharisee. In short, we might reduce the whole thing to, “don’t assume you’re in.” Though it feels contradictory to the idea of assurance of salvation, I don’t think this is so. What makes the difference is presumption. It is one thing to be assured of one’s salvation. It is quite another to presume upon that assurance. Shall we continue in sin so that grace is amplified? By no means (Ro 6:1-2)! Shall we sin because we’re covered by grace rather than weighted down by the Law? No way (Ro 6:15)! Knowing forgiveness will come is not good cause to find a reason to require forgiveness.
This wraps me round at long last to the one common thread I see running through both versions of this parable: the issue of gratitude. While it is not directly noted in either telling, yet it is there. It lies at the base of the responses given by those who do not answer the invitation. Whether it is a matter of assigning insufficient value to the host or the utter disrespect shown the king by proxy in the abusing of his servants, there is no appreciation for what the host has granted.
Too often, this is our own case. In spite of our understanding that heaven awaits, we are entirely too prone to becoming focused almost exclusively on the here and now. There are movements within the church, if they can indeed be counted as within the church, that build on this. Heaven’s all well and good, but what about this life? What about my illness? What about my straightened circumstance? What about whatever my personal idol happens to be? No, it’s never expressly called out as idolatry by those who would make their own profits off of our dissatisfaction. They’re more keen to amplify that dissatisfaction that we might feed their idol of profit in search of assuaging our own misguided hungers.
All such questions, really, amount to proclaiming loudly that there is something greater than God. The King has invited you to the wedding feast being given for His Son (never mind that He has chosen you as the bride at this feast), and you’re more concerned with how new your car is, how comfy your chair. He calls you to come to His place, but you’re more interested in maybe working an extra day to beef up your accounts a bit. You are called into familial relation with the Provider, but you demonstrate a pronounced determination to provide for yourself instead. Sadly, this tendency does not stop with the coming of salvation. We are fallen so low that even when we begin to get a sense of the magnitude of this gift of grace He has given us, still we want it our way.
What is the cure? God. Apart from that I can offer no answer. God must change our hearts. The great good news of the Gospel is that we can (if we are truly of the body) count on Him to do just that. We can also be pretty sure it’s not going to happen on our schedule or by the means of our choosing. What we have is the promise that, “by My own right arm I will do it”, to which He has added, “It is finished!” With that in sight, if I listen to Paul’s words, I find that it is possible for us to become so wholly devoted to arriving at the end of His work as to let go of everything else and press on towards this singular, unifying goal (Php 3:12-14). So, I suppose the cure is twofold: first and absolutely foremost, God working in us, and secondly, ourselves singularly focused on working with God.
I find it shocking to read of the way these men treat the king’s messengers, his slaves. Were we more familiar with the ways of kingdom life, we would find this unthinkable. Consider how greatly the world is amazed by the rebellions happening around the Middle East. These are people who understand kingdom, because they still live under a system of that nature. We do not, so the idea that one ought to defer to this man for the simple reason that he is king doesn’t really register with us. We’ve become too used to having a ‘healthy’ disrespect for the authorities that run our country, almost to the point of not taking them seriously, which doesn’t help matters in the least. But, that’s a whole different topic for an entirely different place.
The point I see here is that they’ve blown of the King! The King! Unthinkable! Shocking! Of course there will be retaliation for such an affront. After all, not only have they refused His invitation, which would be enough already, but they have destroyed His property, His slaves. This is, for all intents, an act of war, and these guys treat it as little more than a lark. The King, however, does not. It is an act of war, and as King, He intends to win that war, whether He started it or not. And, so He surely will.
I should like to return to the point that there are no neutral players in this parable. It’s interesting to hear this idea of neutrality playing out in light of recent activities up in Wisconsin. There, however, it seems there is plenty of room for folks not to take sides. Or is there? The unions are making much of the fact that businesses that are not visibly showing support for their side are therefore counted as being against their side. The same, of course, could be said for the non-union side of the debate. By attempting to be neutral and not take a side, are these same businesses guilty of condoning the strong arm tactics of the union operatives? If they do not stand firmly against these things, are they not encouraging them?
One could look back to the situation at the onset of World War II. Similar themes are in play. Nations attempt to remain neutral. The conflict doesn’t involve us, so we ought not to comment on it. Except, the conflict had no respect for neutrality, no room for neutrality. The conflict eventually demanded that a side be taken, with the only third option being to die neutrally. But even that amounted to having taken a side, really, however much one held up that thin drapery of neutrality.
This is what comes out of our parable here. The King, when once He is moved to retribution, does not stop with those actively rebelling against Him. He is equally enraged at those who, by their passivity, did nothing to discourage that rebellion, did nothing to support His rightful reign. Here I must surely stop for a period of prayerful introspection: To what degree do I fall into this category? There is a clarion call from Scripture that we who know the King are to stand as watchmen. I am recalling the words to His prophet, that if he failed to give warning, then the blood of those lost was counted against him, but if the warning was given, then the watchman was innocent of the deaths of those who would not listen (Eze 33:1-7).
So, for those of us who are declared servants of this King of kings, what are we doing? Are we even watching? And, supposing we are, to whom are we delivering the warning? Too often, I think, we reserve our words for those already secured in Christ. Or, maybe it’s just me. I am actually very certain that there are those within the body who are deeply, actively concerned with getting the Word out, with bringing society at large face to face with their peril that they might be saved. I am equally certain that those who are doing this are a minority within the body of Christ, and I would suspect they are a particularly small minority. For my own part, I would have to confess that it is a very rare thing for me to speak the good news to anybody I don’t know to be receptive. It could be argued that it’s a rare thing that I speak the good news to much of anybody, really. No, that’s probably overstating the case a bit. But, there’s something clearly wrong with this picture.
What use the watchman who only tells his fellow guards? I need to really take this point to heart, and to seek out in prayer and counsel, how I might take corrective action. After all, as a servant of the Most High God, how can I think it reasonable to dismiss even a portion of His chief assignment to go and make disciples? Is it really acceptable to declare that my role is that of waterer and not of planter? Perhaps it is, but I don’t know that I care to make that assumption this morning.
Well, Father, it seems You have answered me, if not in quite the fashion I had expected. I thank You for the opportunity, and the spurring to action, and I pray that however unlikely it might seem in my eyes, the seed that was watered will take root in spite of the rocks. Surely, You did as much for me, and I would have counted myself just as unlikely a receptor in my youth. Again, though, thank You for this once opening my eyes to the purpose before me. May they continue to be open and alert. Keep this heart of mine softened to Your leading.
It’s interesting that yesterday’s Sunday school session was asking the question of what things are detrimental to our spiritual growth. Today I look at my notes and see that I am heading into the topic of ingratitude, and I cannot help but note that the one is answer to the other. Ingratitude has got to be one of the most damaging of attitudes a Christian can suffer from, and I assure you that a Christian can suffer from it as handily as any other being. We, of all people, should be irrepressibly grateful. We are those who have been granted an awareness of just how deep a pit we were in, and who have known the very hand of God lifting us out of that pit. We are those who have found ourselves not merely rescued, but adopted into God’s own family! And, we can still find cause to complain? To borrow from Phil Keaggy, when will I ever learn?
For, you see, I know this to be one of my own flaws, this failure to really dwell in gratitude for the Lord’s Provision in my life. Just at present, that provision doesn’t line up particularly well with my shopping list. This is a test. It is only a test. Yet, it is a battle royale to keep this attitude of mine in check. There are too many things that draw me back to questions of, Why me? How is this good? What are You doing? I really must train myself into the response that is more fitting:
What would You have me to do with this? Teach me, oh Lord, to be as Paul, content whether in abundance or in want. Teach me to trust in the knowledge that You are Trustworthy, and have already told us that Your people shall never be found begging for their bread. Teach me, then, to properly separate want from need, and to abide peaceably under Your hand, knowing Your plans are manifold towards me, and all to the good.
Nothing but nothing destroys faith more swiftly than a perception of want. This is largely because we fail in that discernment between want and need. What we want is, in our minds, what we need. We have been trained to think this way. We are bombarded by media that seeks to reinforce that training, because that is the mindset that will buy, buy, buy. You deserve it. Just do it. You’re worth it. These are the thought processes that drive us daily, and do you know, we even speak these sentiments to one another! We somehow think it’s a great idea to further amplify the message, to further feed the greed that is already inherent to our systems. Like it needs any encouragement!
Would we even consider playing that same sort of game with things that could only lead to some incurable disease? Seriously, if you knew your brother’s actions could not possibly lead to any other outcome but a most painful and miserable death, would you really for so much as a minute think about helping him to justify continuing in those actions as if everything were all right? I would hope not. And yet, when it comes to the lethal disease of ingratitude, we do just that, and we don’t even think for a moment that this might be calling the bad good. But, where does ingratitude lead? Where does the insistence on instantly gratifying every last desire lead? Gluttony, yes. But, worse. It leads to avarice, to envy, to covetousness. And it leads as well to what we might deem the greater sins of adultery and even murder. Sin is a progressive disease, after all. And if we have once rejected the cure, what shall be done for us?
Paul looks at this very effect and says, all of these things are tantamount to idolatry (Col 3:5). They are of a piece, indistinguishable from the acts of the nations that God found cause to destroy utterly. Idolatry was the cause He found, and look at the extent of that idolatry. The worst of the worst was that practice identified with the idols of Moloch, whereupon parents willingly sacrificed their own living children to the fires of the altar. It is unthinkably evil, and yet, here were the very people of God not only thinking but doing, right alongside their heathen neighbors. Why? I am convinced that if one could dig deeply into what moved them to such horrors, one would find ingratitude. God wasn’t providing well enough. Either this child represented one too many mouths to feed, or there was the hope that in sacrificing this one child, the power behind the idol might see fit to grant them more children to work their fields and provide for their dotage. Either way, the sense is that God has not given enough. There must be more.
Do you know that very attitude even filters into how we approach God! It colors how we choose to understand His Word. Even in the passage from Philippians that we were considering yesterday, I could hear that subtle change, or at least it reaches my ears as a subtle change. Paul writes of his overarching desire, “That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death” (Php 3:10). How quickly does that word ‘power’ jump out at you? And, having your attention upon that, how do you hear Paul’s comment?
Do you hear Paul hoping to wield that same sort of power that was able to lift Jesus out of the grave? Or do you hear him seeking the confidence of knowing himself the benefactor of the powerful effect of that Resurrection? Do you read him longing to experience his own resurrection into the life to come, or to have such confidence that this is already settled for him that he can live out this life as one conformed to His death? When you think of the power of God, are you drawn to the miraculous display? Are you thinking along the same lines as Simon the Magi did? Wow! Wouldn’t it be cool to be able to do what these guys are doing! Wouldn’t it be marvelous to be able to touch somebody and see them healed on the spot! Wouldn’t it be just awesome to be able to flit about the landscape like Philip did, whisked from one appointment to the next without this need to deal with traffic! Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could do all those things the Apostles did? I mean, I’d love to have been there in the upper room that first day. I’d love to see tongues of fire coming down on our prayer meeting, feel the walls shaken by God’s presence. I’d love to see the cloud of God’s glory so filling the house that we all fell down before Him.
Fine. It’s even possible, just barely possible, that we long for these things with pure motive. But, it’s highly unlikely. Why the healing hand? Why the ability to prophecy the future? Why any of this? Is it that God’s work might get done, or just for the experience? Sadly, I think many of us would fall into the latter camp. It’s in our training. We are in great peril of being little more than spiritual thrill seekers. So, we read of Paul’s longing for that power, and we figure that’s pretty good cover for our own longings. If Paul wanted it, it must be right, right?
But, I don’t think that’s what Paul meant. Not at all. Look at the surroundings. He has been talking of confidence, of those things that used to boost his confidence that he has discovered to be false. And moving forward from this, we see that at the apex of desire is this: “that being conformed to His death, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead” (Php 3:10-11). This isn’t about how famous Paul can become in this life. It’s about confidence that this life will be completed successfully. It’s about pressing on for what is ahead with no thought for what life had been previously. It’s about gaining ground daily, and holding that ground which is gained (Php 3:16).
It’s about living in gratitude for what God has already accomplished, and what He has granted us to know will be accomplished in us. It’s about living a lifestyle of “It is finished!” There’s a song that has had its occasional impact on my life. Some days it just passes over me, others it has dug deep wells of support in a dry season. The chorus is so simple. “Nothing else matters but You, Lord Jesus, but You.” That’s what Paul’s getting at. That is the power of His resurrection; that nothing else matters. He is the be all and end all, the beginning and the end. In Him we live and move and have our being (Ac 17:28). This is true whether we recognize it and rejoice in it or not. But, it is so much more true for those who have moved from death into life! We live, and we live in the joyous knowledge that it is Him we live, that He, of His own choosing lives in us. And we can find room to want something more, something better? We can find lack in this knowledge? How is that even possible? But, you know we do.
Come back to the parable now. Consider that feast. God has opened the doors of His heavenly abode and welcomed us in. He has laid out His best for us to partake of. All is prepared. The best of His livestock butchered, roasted and set upon the table. Fast forward. The Lamb is slain, and His blood already applied not only to the altar, but to your own lintels. All that need be done has been done. You have done nothing by which you might suppose yourself to have earned an invitation to this feast, and yet there is the invitation set before you. Look! He has even sent along a set of attire befitting the occasion so you needn’t feel embarrassed by your limited wardrobe. You have but to don those clothes and respond to the invitation.
“But they paid no attention and went their way.” How many years did I spend in that very state? How many times did I encounter His servants in the streets and treat them most scornfully, finding them cause for little more than amused derision? And yet, God did not give up on me. How I could see myself in the dismissive, derisive chuckle of that checkout girl yesterday. But, I know this: It may have taken years, but eventually God got through to me. He’s quite persistent, God is. These immediate reactions that we see are not the measure of the soil. No, for we see but the briefest of moments, and likely the worst. God has the long view, knowing the end from the beginning. We don’t even know if our little actions are a beginning, an ending, or something else entirely.
Again, though: the power of His resurrection is precisely that our wedding clothes are now fully provided. Indeed, by His power we have been selected as His bride! We’re not only invited to this dinner, we are the reason for this dinner! Who needs displays of awesomeness in this life with that laid out ahead of us? Oh, believe me, my thinking does not always succeed in holding to this truth, to this perspective. Yet, I know it is where I should be all the time.
I want to move now to that surprise ending Jesus puts on the parable. So many have been brought in. There’s been no selectivity as to who was brought. Good, evil, rich, poor; it didn’t matter. The slaves stumbled across them in the streets and now they were here. But, this is the deal: Some took hold of the invitation but despised the clothing. They came for the meal, but couldn’t be bothered to honor the host even though He Himself had provided them the means to do so. This is again a picture of those power chasers, isn’t it? Or, we might mark out the so-called social Christian in this representation. They want that invitation into the after life, or maybe they really don’t give that much thought to the afterlife at all. They want the reputation of being counted a Christian. Maybe they want the glamour of the spotlight that comes to those reputed miracle workers they see on the TV. Looks like easy money after all. Maybe it’s pride in some other form. What it isn’t is a hungering and thirsting for righteousness. That is, after all, what those wedding clothes represent: the righteousness of Christ, bought at the cost of His own Blood that we might be properly outfitted to come into the presence of Daddy God.
The message here is clear. Some, perhaps even most, have neglected this great salvation. In spite of taking the title of Christian, maybe even being regular members of some congregation or other, it’s all been for show. For such as these, I think the warning of this parable, and the dire question of Hebrews 2:3 must surely apply. “How shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation?” There is, after all, but the one way of entering into Life, and what this points to is an unwillingness to even take that issue seriously.
I tread carefully here, for it is easy to appear as if I have come back to a question of works. Is not the donning of that garment of righteousness a work? Is not laboring to establish an attitude of gratitude in myself a work? To the second question I can give a resounding, “No!” How can gratitude be gratitude if it thinks to earn something? That’s not gratitude. That’s manipulation. Likewise, I can argue that the donning of those clothes is but a demonstration of gratitude for the marvelous gift they represent. It is never about works earning us a place. It is about the place that has been granted us in spite of ourselves inspiring such gratitude in us as must express, and that expression will tend to take on the form of such works as befit the salvation in which we find ourselves.
The message remains, however, that within the very Church, we will yet find both good and evil. Those invited are not always among those numbered for salvation. This is an assumption we dare not make, and I think that is why Jesus is stressing it here, towards the end of His time with the Apostles who would be tasked with establishing that Church. Make no assumptions. Make no assumptions as to who is worth extending the invitation to – this is of accord with those earlier parables. Make no assumptions, either, about the condition of those who answer the invitation. Not all who come to sit under your teaching are really receiving it. Not all who nod and do all those things which are established church habit are truly in the body. Strange though it may seem, it remains a truth in our day that we dare not even assume those in the pulpits are in the body! Indeed, if I take to Paul’s example once again, I find it to be good advice that we, whatever our role be in the body, dare not make such assumptions even about ourselves. It’s one thing to be assured, quite another to assume. Isn’t this why we get that admonition to work out our salvation (Php 2:12), to walk worthy of the calling (Eph 4:1, Col 1:10, 1Th 2:12). Do you get the sense Paul thought this was important? This is a message for the assured! Have every confidence that He has saved you. Have every confidence that the outcome is in His hands. In that confidence, however, give yourself evidence that your confidence is well founded: Walk worthy. Walk out your gratitude for what He has done.
That same message is offered in the negative as we hear Paul dealing with the rejection of his countrymen. “as they had rejected the word, they had judged themselves unworthy of eternal life” (Ac 13:46b). Reading that and thinking upon my own early years, how glad I am that God did not see fit to accept my judgment! Rather, He but waited for the proper time to reveal Himself, having already so worked upon me as to prepare me to be receptive to that revealing. But, what of life since? Have I demonstrated that gratitude that is the hallmark of the one seeking to be worthy of this extravagant gift of God? Not always, to be sure. I hope it can be said I have at least tried, perhaps succeeded on occasion.
Let me consider that word ‘worthy’ briefly. There is in this the sense of demonstrating that one is deserving of what has been given or said, that he is suitable for the gift, and the gift suitable for him. Would that I could walk in that way! But, this still borders on thinking we might earn our way into God’s approval, and that idea is ruled out. We can but express our gratitude. I travel in mental circles here, it seems. Gratitude must express itself in the attempt to measure up to that which has been given us, but never with the idea of arriving at true worth. True worth would have something of which to boast, which is disallowed. But, to do one’s utmost to measure up? That’s different.
When we consider the idea of honoring our parents, what do we suppose that to mean? It is just a matter of giving them some attention from time to time, remembering to call every once in awhile? That is part of it, I suppose, but I don’t think it’s the whole. If I run on the assumption that we were blessed with tolerably good parents, then I can suggest that this same expression of gratitude for their efforts applies. We honor them by our efforts to measure up to their expectations, their aspirations for us. That is not to say that we allow ourselves to be pushed into some particular profession or relationship for no other reason than that papa said so. No. I might go so far as to say that such a concept is ruled out by my assumption of good parenting. But, whatever profession we choose to pursue, if we honor our parents, we will pursue with sound morals and character. Whatever relationship we may enter into, we will do so with the same steadfast commitment and compassion as our parents have modeled. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, as the adage goes, then our emulation of the character our parents displayed and sought to instill is surely the purest form of gratitude.
There is a more literal definition of this worthiness that is worthy of our consideration. It has this sense to it of something being of equivalent weight to another thing. This is an image borne of a time when payments were made by weight of coin. When somebody said you were worth your weight in gold, there was a degree of real meaning in that. Think of the admonitions given that the God’s people were to measure with just weights. Think of the somewhat more modern image of the butcher with his thumb on the scale, the image of dishonesty. Think of the characteristic depiction of justice, eyes closed and the evidence weighed in the balance, the pros to one bin the cons to the other. Think of the message given to Belshazzar: “You have been weighed in the balances, and found wanting” (Dan 5:27 - NKJV).
This, too, is wrapped up in the image of the wedding clothes. The weight against which we are measured is the weight of gratitude. The time of that measuring shall be the day of judgment. We have this idea that everybody who has accepted Christ gets a skate save on that judgment business. Perhaps so, but I’m not entirely convinced we’ve got the right of that. I suppose it depends somewhat on how you account the man with no wedding clothes. Believer or not? Christian or not? The larger part of me would say not. Yet, one thread of this parable, as I have noted, is that we do not necessarily recognize the good from the evil. Even where we perhaps recognize the evil of the present state, we are not privy to the final state. Perhaps redemption lies ahead for such a one. Who are we to say? How many would have counted us out of the running when God was still quite certain we would win through?
Let me suppose, for the sake of the argument, that it were possible for one truly counted amongst the elect to yet come up short in the gratitude department. Honestly, I suspect it would be far less likely that a single one of that number did not come up short! But, our Daddy is as pleased by the effort as by any successes that might attach to the effort. We tried. That’s really the thing that expresses the gratitude. We did our best, however miserable that best may have been. We sought to demonstrate a life of gratitude commensurate with the immeasurable gift given us in that we even have Life.
My thoughts are jumping a bit this morning, but this matter of weight that attaches to worthiness leads me to think of that conception of glory that is wrapped up in the Hebrew shekinah. The weight of glory. I should say the unbearable weight of God’s glory. Seems to me our sense of this has become painfully trite. We don’t have a proper sense of what that unbearable part means. We think of it, probably, as being intolerable, for that’s the way we generally use the word. But, put it back into the world of weights and measures. It is beyond bearing. No, that phrasing sounds like the mother whose patience with her children has run out. It is impossible to lift! Think of the train of animals, the men whose strength was required to carry off the treasures of Solomon’s temple. Now, imagine that all of that power, even multiplied a thousandfold and a thousandfold again could not begin to so much as budge the weight of God’s glory! You know, that treasure of Solomon’s was enumerated as being far and away beyond what any other before or after would ever accrue. Gold is heavy stuff, and he was swimming in the stuff! But, this is nothing! Put it in the balance against the shekinah glory of God, and the balance wouldn’t even twitch. That’s the unbearable aspect of God’s glory. It is impossible that man, singly or collectively, could stand under such a weight.
I think of that Paul Wilbur song, “Let the weight of Your glory fall on us.” What are you thinking, Paul? Such weight can only destroy us! It is utterly impossible that man, should that weight be upon him, could withstand it. “Who can stand when He appears?” asks Malachi. “for He is like a refiner’s fire, a fuller’s soap. He will sit as a smelter, a purifier of silver, and He will purify the sons of Levi like gold and silver, in order that they may present to the Lord the offerings of righteousness” (Mal 3:2-3).
That’s actually not the passage I had in mind, but it will hold. Everything that is not righteousness will be burned away in that jealous fire of God, until only the pure gold of righteousness remains. That weight of glory: Picture yourself an olive in the press, and His glory the press. How much of your oliveness shall remain when once His press has rolled over you? I dare say, not much at all. Weighty, our God’s glory! Infinitely weighty; infinitely worthy. And so, we are back at the weight of gratitude by which we would seek to be of a measure equal not to His glory – an impossible task, but to that gift of grace, that gift of redemption and Life which He has imparted from out of His glory into us. That task may well be just as impossible, but it is not so far beyond reach that we should feel the futility of striving to measure up.
Strive towards the goal, Paul says (Php 3:14). Continue pulling on toward the upward call of God in Christ! And, whatever ground you take in that effort, hold it (Php 3:16). Let nothing cause you to let off in the effort, let nothing hold you back. Walk worthy! Don your robes of righteousness and recognize that which has been set upon your forehead for all to see, “Holy Unto the Lord”. This is what it means to have become part of a nation of royal priests. That refining process has begun, and God is determined to squeeze out of you and I every last thing that is not righteous, not worthy, not fit for His child.
God has blessed you with these robes of righteousness, Christ’s own righteousness given into our lives. Will you truly refuse to do even so much as to put on what is so freely given? Have you so little gratitude for this magnanimous gesture as to despise it outright? I know from my own experience that God is incredibly patient, as well as generous. If He is determined that you shall become family, you shall. But, I still would caution you. His patience does have an end, and we are not given to know where that end is on an individual basis, certainly not in our own case. Right now, those robes are still held out to you. Right now, there’s still time to prepare for the feast to which you’ve been invited. Don’t suppose that your occasional visits to church are enough. Don’t suppose even that regular weekly attendance is enough. It’s not. This man we see in the parable could claim as much. But, he couldn’t be bothered to do the one little thing asked of him in preparation for the feast, and thereby he lost everything. Don’t let this be your story.
For those of us who have yet some confidence after that point, who are certain of our calling and count ourselves amongst the elect, let us consider as well the message of this parable. We have these robes of righteousness, this precious gift of Christ’s own righteousness given to us. But, let us not fool ourselves. Those robes are of no value for us if we don’t wear them. It was asked at Sunday School last week, at what time are we to be prepared for His return? The plain and obvious answer is, right now and always. In every moment prepared, not knowing at which moment He may call. These robes of righteousness, then, are not occasional wear. They are not Sunday-best wear. They are intended to be as ubiquitous to us as jeans, worn day in, day out, at work, at rest or at play. They are the one article of clothing that is suitable for every occasion. And again, if we are leaving the robe of righteousness at home in the closet, we are failing in our gratitude for the marvelous gift of that robe.
It suddenly comes to mind to touch upon that robe of many colors which was given to Joseph. This, in its setting, was a great honor and privilege his father had bestowed upon him. It was a very loud, very public declaration of, “this one is my favorite.” This is hardly an exemplary model of good parenting skills, but as a foreshadowing of what has been done for us, it’s marvelous. Think about it. Our Father, Daddy God, took the robes of His favorite Son, that which most declared His honored status, and gave it to us! That is shocking in its own right, that He would do such a thing. When we add to this the fact that in doing this, Jesus has not in any way been deprived of His own robe or His own honor. He has not been reduced that we might increase. No! But, we are being lifted to His own status, His own standing, and we are, like Him, able to walk forth into the world clearly marked out as God’s favorites. In fact, we would not push the point too hard to say that we are fairly required to walk forth into the world in such fashion.
The robe is a gift to be sure. We have not in any way earned such privilege and honor. But, the robe is a responsibility as well. We have a responsibility to put that robe on, to walk through our days as a proud declaration of God’s favor; not proud of ourselves, but proud of Him Whose favor we are blessed to know. The alternative is to be one who is ashamed of the Gospel, ashamed of the Christ of the Gospel. The warnings for such a one are clear: If you are ashamed of Me in this life, I shall likewise be ashamed of you before My Father (Mk 8:38, Lk 9:26). This gift requires that we honor the gift by its wearing, at the very least, by proud display of what has been given us. It further requires that we honor the gift by keeping it clean and presentable. And, it requires that we have made of them so constant an outfit that whenever the call comes, we need not take so much as a moment to change, but are ready to respond in that twinkling of an eye.
There are several passages we can look at to cement this relationship of the wedding clothes and righteousness. The Revelation will be the most familiar, I expect, as well as the most clearly stated. Consider, for example, “She was given clean linen to clothe herself in, that linen is the righteous deeds of the saints” (Rev 19:8). Here, we are looking in on the day of Christ’s wedding. The readiness of the bride is being represented to us in that passage. What makes here ready? She’s dressed for the occasion. What is the proper dress? The righteous deeds of the saints. Who is she? The saints.
Then, there is that comment made very near the end of Scripture. Jesus has just recalled us to the fact that He is coming soon, reward in hand, to recompense each as befits what he has done (Rev 22:12). Then, John writes these two verses of contrast: “Blessed are they who wash their robes so as to have the right to the tree of life, and to enter the city by the gates” (Rev 22:14) That’s us, one hopes. “Outside are the dogs, the sorcerers, the immoral, the murderers, the idolaters, the liars” (Rev 22:15). That’s not to be us, clearly. One might find amongst that crowd beyond the gates those who have robes not so unlike our own. But, note the blessed clause: they are blessed who have washed their robes. They have not been satisfied to accept the gift and then take it for granted from there on out. They have cherished the gift, manifesting their gratitude in taking good care of that gift, doing their best to maintain it in its original, perfect condition.
Lest we think, however, that John was merely echoing some novel image that Jesus had introduced in these parables of the kingdom, we can also look backwards from the vantage of that temple courtyard. I do believe that I shall quote this particular passage directly from the NASB, and at length.
Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments and standing before the angel. And he spoke and said to those who were standing before him saying, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” Again he said to him, “See, I have taken your iniquity away from you and will clothe you with festal robes.” Then I said, “Let them put a clean turban on his head.” So they put a clean turban on his head and clothed him with garments, while the angel of the Lord was standing by. And the angel of the Lord admonished Joshua saying, “Thus says the Lord of hosts, ‘If you will walk in My ways, and if you will perform My service, then you will also govern My house and also have charge of My courts, and I will grant you free access among these who are standing here. Now listen, Joshua the high priest, you and your friends who are sitting in front of you — indeed they are men who are a symbol, for behold, I am going to bring in My servant the Branch. For behold, the stone that I have set before Joshua; on one stone are seven eyes. Behold, I will engrave an inscription on it,’ declares the Lord of hosts, ‘and I will remove the iniquity of that land in one day’” (Zech 3:3-9).
So, I note the condition of those robes when Joshua first comes into the scene. They are filthy. But, but: This is Joshua we’re talking about! Man of God; has his own book; bears the very name of our Savior, of that Branch Zechariah’s talking about. If he’s a mess, what hope for us? And, of course, the answer is that it is the very same hope. What is shifted is that this Hope lay in the future for Joshua whereas we are blessed to know it accomplished and certain. Whether future or past, though, the message is unchanged. “See, I have taken away your iniquity. I have clothed you in white. My servant, the Branch, the Christ, the greater Joshua of whom you are a symbol, in Him, I will remove the iniquity of the whole land in one day!”
Joshua the lesser arrived home in a mess, but preparations had been made for the case. The robes, the turban, the bath; all were laid out and ready for him at his arrival. Oh, have no doubt that he was horrified at his own condition when he came in. But, Daddy God was not. Oh, He hated the things that had caused those stains, absolutely. He would have preferred a spotless Joshua arriving. But, as Jesus had pointed out, we can’t go walking in this sinful world and expect to come out of it spotless. One bath is not enough for a lifetime. It needs that constant washing. Yet, even with constant washing, there’s going to be moments when the dirt still clings. Daddy understands, and He has made provision. Here as Joshua enters the house, the bath awaits, and attendants are on hand to take those old clothes and burn them, to deck him out in the attire that befits him as a child of the King.
He is seated as a symbol, we are told, a symbol of the Branch in whose robes he is now clothed! Isn’t that something? Yet, we might argue that Joshua had the easier time of it, for his robes were not handed to him until his arrival. We, on the other hand, are gold that we already have these robes, and, as we saw in John’s writings, we have this responsibility for keeping them clean, spotless even. What to do? Well, the answer is pretty clear: Wash them in the water of the Word. That’s got to be more than simply taking time daily to read from Scripture. It’s going to be more, even, than taking the time to meditate on the message, to study it and chew on it as I try to do here. It’s going to be a matter of doing, putting into practice what we find here. It’s going to be a matter of so internalizing the message of Scripture that it infuses our character, becomes our natural response to stimuli.
Listen: Through Jeremiah the prophet, God foretold this. “I will put My law within them and on their heart I will write it” (Jer 31:33). He didn’t say how He would be doing this. Times of reading, times of study and meditation, times of fellowship with the saints, listening to the Word preached; all of these are means towards accomplishing that end. Can He opt to do so by more supernatural and instantaneous means? To be sure He can. But, it’s His option, not ours. In the meantime, all of these things, these ordinary means of extraordinary grace are, like those robes we’re trying to keep clean, a most marvelous gift. Like the robes, they deserve our gratitude, a gratitude displayed in cherishing the gifts He has given, making fullest use of those gifts He has given, and striving onward towards the goal He has set before us.
Before I start delving more fully into that closing message from Jesus as Matthew relays the parable to us, I want to briefly note something about that telling of the parable. Those whom the king has sent out with the invitations are spoken of as slaves, douloi, and these serve at the feast as well. But, then, in that surprise ending, there are those who take up the task of executing the king’s sentence. These are spoken of as servants, diakonoi. Zhodiates makes a point of noticing this distinction. He amplifies that distinction with this explanation: Where slavery emphasizes a dependent relationship, serving emphasizes the service rendered.
I am not certain just how much we ought to try and read into Jesus’ choice of words here, but I think we ought to at least weigh them. Looking at the text, I do not see it directly stated that the slaves served at the feast, although I suspect custom would indicate that this was true. The task we are shown as assigned to the slaves is that of delivering the message. Now, there is something to be noted about this slavery. It is not, as one might think of it given our modern perceptions. These slaves were not (at least not necessarily) men captured in battle and forced into service. The most common path into slavery (as I was reading in this morning’s Table Talk) was a matter of having an unpayable debt. But, even here, we find Scripture describing those who, though they could have enjoyed the manumission provided for by such things as the year of Jubilee, chose willingly to remain. Slavery, then, need not imply coercion. What it does imply is this: a will wholly subsumed into the will of another. In other words, no act of the slave is of his own volition. He does solely as his master instructs. Whether or not he could have a say in the matter, he does not exercise any such say. Master commands, slave acts, and that’s the end of it.
This is what’s in view with those messengers, the proclaimers of the Good News invitation. They cannot but speak the news. This is also what is said of the prophets, and there, we have their testimony as well. They could no more hold the word of God in then they could eat fire. There is something about the message that God would have you speak, that He demands you speak, that defies any attempt on our part to restrain. Think of Jonah, and the lengths to which he went to avoid delivering his message. But, all his struggles and effort were to no avail. In the end, the message would out, and it would out from his tongue, because this is what God had commanded of His slave.
And yet, His slaves have received, almost universally, such horrible treatment at the hands of those to whom the messages are sent. They are ridiculed, reviled, rejected and even slaughtered. If ever you have had a word of rebuke or admonition from a loved one, you might recognize that reaction in your own flesh. The immediate response to the voice of correction is of the same sort as would easily grow into ridicule and reviling and ever, were we but brave enough, slaughtering the messenger to cut off the message.
The fact is, though, that we are all described, all we who believe, as His servants. His most favored staff did not escape such designation, indeed rejoiced in it and spoke proudly of their status. I am a bond-servant of Christ. I am His slave, bound necessarily to do His bidding without question and without hesitation. That’s what Paul was telling people at the outset of pretty much every letter he wrote. I cannot but do as I am doing. I cannot but preach the Gospel, whatever befalls me as consequence. I have no choice in the matter. I am His slave.
Now, I note that Paul tends to speak in terms of the bond-slave, and I think that we might hear in that a denial of coercion. This is not forced servitude, but voluntary. It matters not, so far as the necessity of obedience, but it makes a world of difference as to how such a slave ought to be viewed. His is no position of ignominy, but a position of willing sacrifice, that the plans and purposes of his Master might be pursued that much better. This is our shared calling, something we have in common with Paul, with Peter, with Stephen. It is not, I dare say, something we are comfortable with accepting.
At the same time, we are diakonoi. The association this word has with our term deacon will be plainly recognized. But, we tend to think of this as an office for the few, as opposed to a descriptor for the many. For the diakonoi, the service rendered is the thing emphasized. The slave is dependent, but the servant renders service. Both terms, slave and servant, might very well describe the same person. It’s a question of emphasis, whether the dependent nature of the relationship to the master is in view, or the service that one provides the master is in view. If we, as slaves of the Most High God, render Him no service, provide Him no value, how long should we expect to continue in His household? I need only turn back to the conclusion of the preceding parable. “I’m telling you that the kingdom will be taken from you, and given instead to a nation that will produce its fruits” (Mt 21:43).
It is perhaps inevitable that in considering this matter of slaves and servants, my thoughts would turn to Onesimus. It’s the more inevitable given that Table Talk is going through the book of Philemon at present, but that man has stuck in my thoughts from previous work. I honestly don’t recall the occasion any longer, but I always recall the name. Onesimus, “profitable”, “the useful one”, what a marvelous name! This is the name of a slave who has become a servant. Now, we know his story, that he was indeed a slave, and one who had run from his owner. Interestingly, as this morning’s study pointed out, Scripture instructed God’s people not to return such a one, but to make him at home in their country (Dt 23:15-16). You can be sure that Paul was quite aware of the instruction of that passage as he sent Onesimus back to Philemon. But, you see, Onesimus was not forced to go back, he chose to go back just as he had chosen to run.
Onesimus, by the power of God, was a changed man. He may still have been a slave, but now he was more. He was living up to his name. He was returning so that he might render service to Philemon, be profitable to Philemon, although this might not be profit of the form most commonly understood. There was spiritual profit for Philemon in that returning, and in the change in the relationship between himself and his servant, for Onesimus would truly be more servant than slave from that point forward.
All of this was recorded for our benefit, who live nearer the end of days. We are each of us required to recognize our dependence upon God, a most thoroughgoing dependence. “Apart from Me you can do nothing” (Jn 15:5). Nothing: that doesn’t leave much for our independent ability, does it? But, we are called beyond this recognition. We are called to be more than needy dependents. We are called to be fruitful, profitable to the kingdom. Indeed, you can hear this point made in that very same verse. “He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit.” His presence cannot but produce. The indwelling Holy Spirit cannot but produce clearly evident change in us, as we are brought nearer and nearer the mature image of Christ in Whom we are remade.
One aspect of that fruitful change is that we become useful to the kingdom. We might think of that in terms of service rendered in the church, although even this is but the least of fruitfulness. How many, though, are what we might call pew sitters? They come, they partake of the service, they might even drop some coin in the collection plate, albeit more out of guilt than thankfulness. But, the messages they hear don’t really make a dent on their psyche. The worship doesn’t move them to praise. There’s not any real perception of the Holy. They’re just there, absorbing, using up space and resources to no purpose: dead branches, sappers in sore need of being pruned away. And, the Master of the Vineyard makes it clear that they shall be pruned away in time. But, there is always that hope that they might yet find it in their power to become fruitful.
Most often, I hear that the visibly productive part of any given church body consists of ten to twenty percent of its membership. The rest are sappers, if not outright tares. It’s just possible, I suppose, that this number is low. It’s just possible that those who seem to do so little are actually doing great things for the kingdom, but doing it in such a way that their involvement is not known. It could be that there’s another fifty percent who are utterly devoted to prayer, but do so in private and without making it known to anybody else. It’s possible, but it doesn’t seem all that likely to me. That said, we are taught repeatedly not to attempt to judge our brother as to his genuineness or devotion. If there is outright sin exposed, that’s one thing. But, if it’s just that we question their commitment, this is not within our jurisdiction.
At the same time, we are also taught repeatedly that not every body in the pews is counted a true believer by He Whose opinion matters. That is, really, the major and final point of this parable: Not all who follow are disciples. That feels like an improbable statement on the face of things, but it is not. It is no more improbable or self-contradictory than the conclusion Jesus provides, “Many are called, few are chosen.”
Here’s the thing. We read those words, and it is very enticing to think of the message in terms of them, in terms of those who are not the chosen. We, of course, are not in that number, as our thinking runs, and so, we find cause not for self check but for self congratulations in this message. That very response, though, ought to be like an alarm bell ringing in our heads! It seems pretty clear that the Apostles got that sense from the message. There is no place in faith for presumption. To fall into assuming oneself amongst the chosen and therefore relaxing is to fall into the very error of the Jews, of the Pharisees, and of any number of movements within Christianity over the course of history.
Think about this. The Jews were raised with the understanding, the knowledge even, that they were God’s chosen people. They were. They are. God has said so, who’s going to argue? The problem was that they fell into thinking that this was enough. He chose and therefore, there wasn’t anything for them to worry about. Repeatedly, the history we are shown in the Old Testament reveals the costliness of such mistaken thinking.
There was the serpent pole that Moses had raised in the wilderness upon God’s instruction. This was to be a one time prescription, but the people began to assume. The pole worked once (and God does not change), therefore the pole must work for all time. It was no longer about God, it was about the pole. So, the pole had to be destroyed.
There was Shechem. Like Jerusalem afterwards, this place had been chosen to be central to God’s worship for a season. But, as the season stretched out, the people began to trust in the place, to assume that the place was of such importance to God that He would never destroy it, however sinful they might be who counted on its sheltering power. How they could come to think such a thing of He Who had brought the Flood upon His own creation, it’s hard to fathom (or is it, really?) but they did. And Shechem had to be destroyed as the idol it had become.
Jerusalem, here in the time of Jesus and the years following, was becoming much the same as Shechem before it. Cries of “the Temple! The Temple!” were indicative of an attitude that supposed God would never allow destruction to come upon that place where He had chosen to set His name. This, in spite of the fact that this same temple had twice been destroyed by His own command. This, in spite of the well documented Babylonian exile. This, in spite of the dire message of Ezekiel’s prophecies about the departure of the Lord’s presence from that place. Even so, even though, as we have seen in these accounts of the final week, they had lost pretty much all sense of the holiness of God’s house, even though they would later bring their political battles into the very courtyards of that Temple, they felt themselves immunized against any retribution, because God would never allow such a thing!
But, this is nothing to be restricted to the Jews, nor to antiquity. I can’t help but think of the British Empire which, though of the past, is hardly so far in that past as what is in Scripture. They, too, thought themselves particularly chosen of God; the New Jerusalem. For all that, there were indeed some very great men of faith to be counted as nationals of that kingdom, and there were at least seasons where the reach of that kingdom combined with the ardor of the faithful to empower some pretty phenomenal missionary efforts. It seems, however, that here, too, there came a certain presumptuousness. God would never allow this great empire to fall into ruin, for just look how much it was doing for Him! Where, then, is that empire today? It is all but gone, and the faith by which they thought it would be preserved is perhaps farther gone than the empire itself.
Recognizing all this, it is very hard to look across the American landscape with any great hope. We, too, have declared ourselves uniquely blessed and positioned by God: a city on a hill, set as a light to the world. We, too, have been renowned in our time for the depth and breadth of our missionary efforts. But, we, too, have fallen into the deadly mindset of supposing our nation cannot fail for being too important to God’s plans. I tell you otherwise. Just as there is no such thing as the employee who is indispensable to the company, whose importance is so great that they would never dare to let him go, however rank and reprehensible he may be as he goes about his work; even so, there is no nation whose importance to God is so great that He could not or would not eliminate that nation in response to the depths of their depravity. There is no nation that He would suffer to make an idol of itself, even if it be done in His name.
The remnant is not an inviolate shield for the majority within which it dwells. Neither, it must be said, can it expect to wholly escape the punishment of the majority. I know I have already pointed this out in the parable, but be reminded: The whole city was destroyed in which those who reviled the king had dwelt. It was not just their own houses brought into ruin, but also those of every citizen of the place, for they could have and should have sought to intervene, sought to prevent the evil. But, they did nothing. The remnant, I dare say, cannot be the remnant and do nothing about what is going on around them. To do so is to fail to be of the remnant, is it not?
Listen! Not all who follow are disciples. Don’t assume. As Minister Patton was reminding me after the last time I taught, don’t just assume that everybody who comes to the class is saved. Don’t you dare! Indeed, far safer to assume the opposite. The remnant, after all, is by definition in the minority. No, don’t assume the seed is in the soil and just requires a bit of weeding or fertilizing. Assume the soil has not yet even been turned for planting and act accordingly.
In an age when so-called Christian businesses abound, we do well to bear this message clearly in mind. Not all who purport to be such businesses are in any way led by Christian principles. Many are wolves in sheep’s clothing, seeking merely the profit to be had from the wishful desires of the faith community. You know, as Christian music began to flourish, the VIPs in the recording industry took note. Here, they recognized, is an untapped marketplace. Here is profit we’ve been leaving for others. No more! Now, if you look carefully, you find that most of the old Christian labels are subsidiaries of the very same corporations that provide such recordings as you would never wish to have found in your house. Yet, somehow, while we might consider boycotting the parent organization over the crimes sold under some other label in their portfolio, we would simultaneously go out and spend away on their one Christianized label, and think nothing of it. Of course, as they get the profit either way, they’ll think nothing of it either.
Small divergence there. Bring it back around. We are to have the assurance that comes of knowing that it is God who has called, God who has chosen, God who will prove faithful to complete in us the work that He started. But, we are simultaneously warned against becoming presumptuous in that assurance. Thou shalt not test the Lord your God. Disciples don’t test. Followers might. Followers did on several occasions, and still do. But, think upon that scene when Jesus had spoken of Himself as that bread of heaven which those who would live must eat (Jn 6:58). By the time He had finished that message, we are told, “many of His disciples withdrew, and were not walking with Him anymore” (Jn 6:66). They had been followers. Yes, I know, they are called disciples here, but their discipleship ceased in that very moment. They were disciples no more. Considering John’s letters, I think we can say that they were never really disciples, only followers. While it was exciting and positive and upbeat, and there’s miracles to see and it’s all just so cool, well fine! We want to make that scene. But, now it’s getting hard. Now, discipleship is discovered to have a cost, to put certain requirements on a person. Nobody told us about that! We’re outta here!
That’s what I’m talking about. Many in God’s house are in it for just so long as it’s entertaining, or socially beneficial, or at the very least, not too demanding. You want a contribution for me coming? Why not? I pay for my entertainment elsewhere. But, 10% of income seems a little steep. What’s my ROI for that? The worship’s going to have to be a whole lot better, a whole lot slicker and professional before I’m going to pay that much for the privilege of listening. The safety net provided by this community’s going to have to be a whole lot thicker, a whole lot better woven, before I consider investing in it. Following. There just so long as times are good, and there’s a clearly defined personal benefit found. But, take up your cross? I think not. Live like you believe it? That’s for suckers. Die to self? Alright, that’s it. I’m gone.
Some, of course, are not nearly that cynical, but are nonetheless discovered to be outside the fold. I dare say that it is entirely intentional that Jesus, by speaking of the called, manages a bit of a dig at the Pharisees. Their very name comes from the sense of being the called out ones. Called out of what? Called out of the ignorance and lax morals of the commoners. Called out to live to a higher standard, to draw closer to God. Never mind that those higher standards (and never lose sight of the solid motivation for the beginnings of this movement – they really wanted to obey) had become much lower standards than what they sought to guard. This has been Jesus’ major issue with them. What started out as an effort to avoid even coming near to a breach of God’s law had become so important in their thinking that even when their borders themselves were in breach of God’s law, they held to their own rules as having primacy. Indeed, they had become for all intents and purposes utterly ignorant of God’s law, because they were too busy pursuing their own.
Called out. How often do we as Christians think of ourselves in this very same light? My previous church, we even had the motto: “Called out, sent out”. Sounds fine, doesn’t it? But, then there’s that message Jesus just delivered here. “Many are called. Few are chosen.” Don’t get too excited about being called out. Pay attention to what Jesus has told us of kingdom operations in this era. Wheat and tare have been left to grow side by side. They may look the same, but they are not. In the end, their fruits shall prove their nature, and the tares will be removed ere the harvesting is done. Both good and evil are given invitations, and frankly, both good and evil accept it. Some have come just for the meal, or maybe to be seen at the king’s bash. Good PR, that, and something to show the grandkids. See? I was there at the wedding feast.
But, the truth will out. There remains that which distinguishes the chosen from amongst the called. We have looked at it. It is the robe, the donning of that robe God has given. It is the gratitude, earnest heartfelt gratitude that leads us to reverence this One Who has been so gracious towards us. It is the love that so fills us that our greatest desire is to do what pleases our Father. We want nothing so much as to grow up to be just like Him.
Many, I fear, who have thought themselves securely amongst that number, who have perhaps been taught in such fashion as to make such an assumption on false grounds, are going to find themselves like that poor guest singled out in our parable. They will come expecting the best, only to be confronted with the unanswerable question: “Why should I let you in? None but the righteous shall enter, and just look at you! What possible answer can you give for yourself?” And, being in a place where prevarication is not only impossible, but inconceivable, the only possible outcome is as we see it in this parable: He was speechless. Literally, that translates as, “He was muzzled.” Speech made impossible, for what could he possibly say? There is no defense. There is not even a lie on offer. If it were some movie in Victorian England, we might hear, “It’s a fair cop.” But, even that much is unspeakable here in this place. It’s over and there’s no changing it.
This is to be the outcome for all who have not trusted in Christ, and truly trusted in Him. It is not an outcome reserved for the Hindu, the Muslim, the Buddhist and the animist. It’s not something that only the atheists will experience. No, many who were called will find themselves in the very same situation. Many who thought themselves secure, but set that security on their own works, or on some ritual observed once in their youth, will suffer the same sad end. Many, even, who labored hard ‘for the kingdom’ will find that their labors were truly in vain, for they were done not out of loving gratitude, but in fearful hope of earning passage.
There is no place for complacency. Even the Apostles found it so. Take, as but one example, the message Peter delivered to those in his charge. “Be that much more diligent to make certain of His calling and choosing you” (2Pe 1:10). I think Peter intended that and to be stressed. It’s not enough to be certain of your calling. Many are called. Be certain of His choosing. How, then, are we to do that? Well, exercise yourself so as to demonstrate those character traits that Peter has enumerated previously: moral excellence, true knowledge of God, self control, perseverance, godliness, kindness, and of paramount import: love. In short, be that fruitful nation God seeks. Demonstrate the love He has set in your heart. Live so as to make plainly obvious to all the abiding presence of God’s Holy Spirit in you. Or, in the succinct words of Paul, “Walk worthy” (Eph 4:1, Col 1:10, 1Th 2:12). Work at it. But, work at it because you want to grow up just like Daddy.
