you think that all your time is used

too busy earnin'

A sermon from the Gospel of Luke:

It just hangs there; unanswered…

In the Gospel today there’s a man who works for the enemy. One of his slaves -one who is special to him- is ill. Close to death, even. 

Despite who he’s on the dole from, he’s been good to the Jewish people in town. So some elders parlay Jesus to heal the man’s slave.

They appeal to Jesus, insisting the man deserves to have his slave healed. He’s worthy of it, they tell Jesus. 

Now, apparently the man catches wind of that, because before Jesus can get to his house, he’s sent another envoy! This time with a personal message. “Don’t bother yourself, Jesus. I’m not worthy to receive you.”

Worthy. Not worthy. Which is it?

Whether we admit it or not, it’s a question we spend a lot of time on. Worthy? Unworthy? We want to know…

Well, you who were listening carefully know that a judgement is never given. Jesus doesn’t remark on the man’s worthiness one way or the other. 

Worthy or unworthy. It just hangs there, unanswered…

I love the Disney/Pixar movie, “Up.”

It came out the summer after my senior year of college. It had gotten good reviews, so one day me and a couple friends went to see it. Since classes were over, we went to a matinee. Easily making us the oldest people in the theater that day…

Right from the get-go, the movie plunges in. Showing a couple of kids fall in love, grow up, grow old and finally even face Death…

I remember as it became clear the woman was going to die, my friend leaned over and said, “I don’t like this movie.” Then, my other friend, sitting opposite me leaned over and said, “If this movie makes me cry.” My voice broke as I said, “here we are, the oldest people in the theater, crying!”

It’s a well done movie. What I love about it, though, is that it’s all about worthiness; and how to render a judgement on it. Which our Gospel does not do today…

I won’t ruin the ending of the movie this time, I promise. 

It begins with the couple meeting as kids, pretending to be adventurers. At first their games of adventure are just a shared interest. Over time, though, it forms the bond that moves them from friends to companions. 

In a brilliant montage, without any dialogue, you watch them grow up. 

They get married. She gives him a book she made as a chid, her book of adventures. Only now, she added a new page, “Adventures we will go on.” 

From there you watch the married couple work at the zoo, selling concessions. Go on picnics. Cloud watching. 

In one scene he points to a cloud, and you realize he sees a baby. The camera pans over to her, and she spreads her arms wide. A whole fleet of babies!

…Then you see them holding each other in the doctor’s office. They go home and paint over the baby room. She’s sitting by herself, crying. He goes, gets the book of adventures, and hands it to her. 

In a newly repainted room they put a jar that says “our adventure” to collect their loose change. Over time, the jar fills with quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. 

Then the car get a flat tire. They break open the jar. The car’s tire is replaced, and a new -but empty- jar is put out. Over time, it fills with change again. But then there’s a hospital visit. They break open the jar again. A new -but empty- jar is put out another time. This time a storm that knocks a tree into their house. They break open the jar. You get the picture…

Still free of dialogue, you see them get older and get on with life. Eventually the jar is moved to a corner, where instead of change, it collects dust. 

One day when the man is cleaning, he see’s that old book of adventures. A furrow comes on his brow. After a moment, though, a smile replaces it. 

He goes to a travel agent and buys two tickets to South America. Then he assembles a picnic basket, carefully packing the tickets. 

As they walk to the familiar tree, you watch as she looses her footing…

Then, they’re in the hospital. She’s in the bed. She hands him that old book of their adventures. Guilty, he turns the book over and sets it down. 

Finally, you see him all alone in the funeral home. Going home by himself, he puts away that old book of adventures. He can’t bring himself to open it. His guilt over failing to take his wife on her adventures is too much for him…

Then, the camera cuts. This time the sound is back to normal. He’s older now, though. Each day he goes out to sit on his porch by himself. Scowling at passers-by. He’s grown bitter over the years…

We can be a lot like that, can’t we?

Those things that make us feel guilty. They keep us from opening The Book. Or praying for that matter. Taking the sermon message that “God loves you” to heart. Opening up to the pastor. From even going to church.

We would do well to remember that. Sometimes we get cranky about the people who don’t come to church. We forget that for many of them, their guilt is too much.

He can’t open the book of adventures. We don’t open The Bible; afraid of what it will say about us…

Well, throughout the movie, that old, empty book of adventures turns up again and again. Each time, a sigh sweeps across the man’s face each time he looks at the page, “Adventures we will go on.”

One time, though, as he holds the book the page slips past his fingers! 

The page he could never bring himself to look at, turns over… 

…And instead of being empty, there’s a picture from their wedding day!When he turns to the next page there’s picture from one of their picnics! He keeps turning the pages; and page after page is filled with photos from their life together!

Now he sees his life, not through his evaluation, but her’s. He sees his life, not measured by his worthiness or unworthiness, but her love. All that guilt he had been carrying, disappears!

Listen, that’s an analogy. That’s precisely how it is with the Bible!

So often we’re afraid to open it, afraid it will say we’re guilty. That we’ve failed. That we’re not worthy. So we keep the Bible closed. We don’t pray. During the sermon when the pastor says “God loves you,” you think, if pastor knew the real me…

But get this loud and clear; that’s not the way God works. That’s not what the Bible is about. When it comes to God, it’s never about us, whether we’re worthy or not. It’s about the One who looks at you with compassion. Compassion. “

Remember our Gospel today? Jesus didn’t remark on the man’s worthiness one way or the other, did he? He let it hang there, unanswered. 

But Jesus did speak, didn’t he? It was when he heard the message from that second envoy. In fact, when he heard it, he couldn’t keep quiet. 

Imagine the scene. 

The second envoy interrupts Jesus’ path. Passing along the message, “don’t bother, the man says he isn’t worthy to receive you. Plus, he knows what it’s like to be under orders. He says all you need to do is say the word, Jesus; and his servant will be healed.”

Imagine Jesus stopping in his tracks. Turning around to the crowd that’s behind, raising his arms over his head and exclaiming, “Did you hear that?!? I haven’t come across faith like this anywhere…”

Now, it isn’t that the man considers himself unworthy that blows Jesus away. It’s that what the man knows, that Jesus won’t have any truck with worthiness or unworthiness. 

But rather that, it all hinges on Jesus’ Word.

In other words the centurion says, “I’m may not be worthy, but that’s not what I’m counting on. I’m counting on you, Jesus. You word.”

Now, there’s a picture of a “forgiven sinner free-riding on Jesus,” folks. That’s what it looks like. To trust that when it comes to Jesus, the game of worthy/unworthy has ended, once and for all. To trust your life will be evaluated by Jesus’ compassion, and nothing else. 

The first envoy, they insist the man is worthy. The second, that he isn’t. 

But Jesus doesn’t to play that game, does he?

…The truth is, we’re a lot more like the character from “Up,” than we are the centurion, aren’t we?

Our guilt. Our fear we’re not worthy keep us from opening The Book, coming to church, praying, believing this News you’re being told right now.

And it isn’t even only in the church that this happens, is it? 

Our guilt. Our fear that we’re not worthy is always convicting us. Your hairline. Your waistline. Your bottomline. And on, and on. It never stops, does it? Worthy. Unworthy.

Well, get ready because it’s about to come to a blessed end; finally… 

Meet the one who brings an end to that tired game, worthy/unworthy. The one who looks at you, not by how you measure up, but by his compassion; Jesus Christ. The one you are baptized into, now and forever. 

Open The Book, he’s on every page. Jesus’ compassion is all over in it. 

After all, in the Gospel today Jesus didn’t bother to weigh in on the man’s worthiness or unworthiness. Did he? 

That’s because when it comes to Jesus, that’s never what’s at stake. Rather, it all hinges on his compassion.

Your life isn’t defined by your accomplishments, or your failures for that matter. It’s determined by the one who gave his life for you; and nothing else.

Worthy. Unworthy. It still hangs there; on the cross. When Jesus was raised to new life, the life he gives you, he left that question hanging on the cross; forever. Never to be answered. 

Your savior doesn’t look at you that way. He sees you with compassion.

Worthy? Unworthy? It hangs just there, unanswered. Jesus won’t answer. He has too much compassion.