To understand this parable, you need to remember that these words immediately precede this text: “When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?” That’s an interesting question. At the rate the world is going, it would be easy to sarcastically say something like, “It doesn’t seem like it.” But, before we make the easy claim, let’s consider: what does faith look like?
What does faith look like? Well,
that’s not quite fair, is it - you can’t see faith, per se, but you can see the
marks of faith in the lives of people. So, let me rephrase the question a bit:
what does faith look like in the life of a Christian? What are some of his or
her characteristics? Probably things
like regular worship attendance, frequent reception of the Lord’s Supper,
attends Bible class or Sunday school, serves in some volunteer capacity at
church, practices good stewardship, being a good neighbor, praying every day,
and their children are equally well-mannered and behaved as they follow in
parents footsteps.
In this morning’s Gospel lesson,
Jesus is expounding on the last sentence of the text last Sunday: “When the Son
of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?” This morning’s Gospel lesson picks
up immediately – Jesus is still speaking with the Pharisees, a conversation
that began in chapter 17. As a rule, Pharisees were confident in their own
righteousness. And why not? They kept the Law. Period. They were the perfect
model of faithfulness and righteousness, so they thought, with their obedience
of the letter of the law, their memorization of the Law and the Prophets, their
refusing to associate with any riff-raff like tax collectors or prostitutes. They
were self-righteous to the point that they considered themselves better than
anyone else, and the competition to be the best of the best was serious. As
they say, if you’re not the lead dog, the view is always the same and as far as
they were concerned, they – as a group – were all contenders for the lead dog
with everyone else being far behind.
Jesus speaks to them, calling
them to repentance, with a simple parable. Two men were in the temple to pray.
The first, a Pharisee, stood front and center boasting about his greatness
before God and man, his chest thrown out, his head held high, and his voice
ringing in the temple he begins his Litany. “Lord, I thank you I am not like
these other men – robbers, evildoers, adulterers – or even like this tax
collector.” Evidence consisted of his tithing, his fasting, and his
self-determined “worthiness” – and please understand I say that with quotes
around it. But, who is his God? It’s not whom you think. Ironically, the God he
worships is the unholy trinity of me, myself and I; his faith rests in his own
perceived goodness placed over and against others’ unworthiness; his self-justification
is self-imposed and his self-righteousness is self-appointed.
Contrast that with the tax
collector. Alone, in the corner, in the shadows where his haters can’t see him
so easily, with his face turned downward. I imagine hot tears ooze between his
tightly pinched eyelids and, with a voice husky from emotion, he simply pleads
“God, have mercy on me.” You notice, there’s no argument about his position
before God – he’s a sinner and confesses it freely, tearfully. His sin is
unnamed; his guilt is unspecified but his profession gives a clue: he’s a legal
thief, overcharging his fellow citizens for their taxes by fiat of Rome. Perhaps
there were other burdens of conscience. Perhaps he had been caught with a lady
of the night; perhaps he had taken the Lords name in vain. Perhaps it was a lifetime
of sinful mistakes that the Spirit of God had exposed through the Law and the
Prophets. His burdened conscience is in danger of being crushed. The weight of the sin is terrific. He knew it
and even other temple worshippers knew it: this man has no right to stand there
before God in God’s temple…
…Yet, he does. Why? He believes
that God will have mercy on a sinner, even a sinner like himself.
When the Son of Man returns, will
he find faith on earth? Where is faith found? Not in the foolish arrogance that
thunders of his own merit, importance, and self-righteousness. Faith is found
in Christ and Christ alone. Faith is present in the sinner who repents,
confessing his sins and believing that Jesus can forgive even him or her of the
guilt, shame, and eternal consequence of their failings. Faith is found when
the sinner pledges that the old way is gone and a new way, enabled by the Holy
Spirit, is underfoot. Faith is found, not in the self, but in the mercy of God.
What is it that makes a good
Christian a good Christian? Not monogrammed Bible covers or perfect attendance,
not memorized lists from the Bible or the size of the offerings. A good
Christian is one who stands before God without any self-righteousness or
pretentiousness in their goodness or merits. A good Christian is one who stands
before God, humbly praying, “I am a sinner with nothing to offer you. I ask for
your mercy for the sake of the One who died for me, and I trust that His death
is enough because I have nothing else to give.” A good Christian clings to and
only to the mercy of God in Christ.
You see the mercy of God in the
form of another broken, beaten Man. He, too, stood in the corner of the temple:
He was identified by the Pharisees as a heretic who claimed Himself to be God.
He was drug out of the shadows of the Garden of Gethsemanie to stand before
another self-righteous judge who washed his hands of the whole matter, saying
he was innocent while he turned this innocent Man over to be murdered. You hear
the mercy of God being spoken from this man’s lips as nails pierce His hands
and He cries out, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” and
again later, “Today you will be with me in paradise,” finally declaring, “It is
finished.” Mercy is attained only through Jesus own innocent suffering and
death in the place of sinners. In the
Old Testament, the lid on the Ark of the Covenant, hidden in the Holy of Holies
in the Temple, was called the mercy seat, the place from whence God dispensed
His mercy. In the New Testament, the mercy seat of God is brought out into the
light – well, actually, into the darkness of Good Friday. The mercy seat is the
cross of Jesus – the same cross where murderers and insurrectionists are
crucified. There, Jesus dies as the once-for-all sacrifice for the sins of the
world. Innocent blood shed for guilty sinners.
What does faith look like? I
asked you to think of your own personal faith-hero. These are the people you
know, parents, grandparents, family members, or even fellow church members, who
have stood in the field of spiritual warfare and have fought the good fight.
These are the ones who, in the midst of all things hard and difficult – job
loss, death of a loved one, illness – and have said, “Blessed be the name of
the Lord.” These are the ones whose faith never seems to waiver or flag; who
always speak confidently “This is God’s will for me.” These are the ones who we
consider to be heroes of faith and we look to them as models.
But for the rest of us, faith
might not always be so easy to live out. Oh, don’t get me wrong – we know Jesus
is our Lord and Savior, but sometimes with faith that is weak and broken,
bloodied and bruised, we are left to wonder if there is even a mustard seed of
faith left. We pray, but it seems God is distant and aloof. Maybe he’s not
exactly “against” us, but then he must be neutral towards us. Our hopes are
shattered, our dreams tarnished, our love is rejected, our forgiveness
unappreciated, and our faith – the living, daily life of the child of God –
grows weak. Pray, a well-intentioned friend says; “how?” we answer; “Why – it
doesn’t do any good. It’s as if God has gone silent on me.” Yet, we look to the
heavens and cry out, “Lord, have mercy…I believe, but help my unbelief.”
Who is it who goes home justified before God? Not the one who didn't need God's mercy - he had it all under self-control and self-righteousness, but far from the righteousness of God. It's the one who
knows he needs God’s mercy and who believes God is able to deliver it to him. You
notice it’s not the one the world would identify as the “Good Christian.” Believe
it or not, in the time of Jesus, it would have been a complement to be called a
pharisee because they were seen as so good. Jesus redirects that idea. It’s the
one who looks anything but: it’s the one who is broken and who needs Jesus.
Justified is a legal term. It’s
more than just “not guilty.” It’s full, complete exoneration without fear of
double jeopardy. It means that the penalty of sin can no longer be returned to
you because it was paid in full. You’re not guilty because Jesus was declared
guilty. Break the word down and you get a good word picture: it is just
as if I never sinned. Justified. The broken, repentant sinner is
justified. The extortioners, the unjust, the adulterers, the tax collectors of
Jesus’ day; the farmers, the ranchers, the teachers, the stay-at-home parent,
the retiree, the student, you, and, yes, even the pastor of today – the broken,
repentant sinner, in asking for mercy, is literally asking to be covered up in
blood, to be covered in the blood of Jesus, so that God does not see him as a
sinful fool, but as redeemed and beloved in Jesus.
So, what does faith look like?
Maybe a better question is where does faith look? It looks at Jesus.
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