Luke 17:1-10 - The Right Combination - October 27, 2019

“The right combination.” Meteorologists say that when atmospheric conditions are just right for a tornado or snowstorm. Sports commentators say that when in their judgment a player has the right blend of speed, strength and talent to become a superstar. You might hear it around election time, when analysts predict that there is just the “right combination” of sinking poll numbers, economic turmoil, and social unrest to replace an elected leader. But today we’re talking about something far more important than the weather, sports or politics. Today, Jesus describes having the “right combination” to be a Christian.

While at first glance this text may seem like a series of random, disconnected statements, there’s one thread that ties everything together: things that are (or at least seem) impossible. Its starts already in the first verse. In our translation we read: things that cause people to sin are bound to come – but a more literal translation would be it is impossible that death traps will not come. It’s impossible to avoid temptations and pitfalls in this fallen world, but we can never be their source. In fact, it would be better for you have a millstone hung around your neck and be thrown to the bottom of Lake Michigan than for you to cause one of these littles ones to sin. Some Muslim nations still cut the hands off thieves. Several states still execute capital criminals. But only mob bosses and drug lords have ever decided on drowning as a fitting punishment. Yet here, Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, is suggesting that just this type of cruel and unusual punishment would be better than leading another Christian to sin. Why? Because leading someone else to sin is putting their soul in danger of hell. Certainly we would be better off dead than leading someone to sin.

Then what should we do when sin inevitably raises its ugly head? If your brother sins, rebuke him. Such a simple, straightforward command isn’t it? If a fellow believer falls into sin, confront him firmly but gently and call him to repentance. But in a culture where it’s considered politically incorrect to question the right of anyone to do anything – rebuking sin often seems all but impossible. “What if they get mad? What if they never talk to me again? What if it ruins our relationship? It’s not my place; let someone else do it.” So that begs the question: how many of us actually obeyed Jesus’ command – even once – much less consistently? When’s the last time you called a family member – or fellow church member – to repentance? And yet, Jesus says that it’s impossible for sins not to happen, so there should to be plenty of cause for rebuking. Have you loved someone enough to rebuke them? If not, why not? More importantly, if we can’t obey this simple, straightforward command, can we really consider ourselves to be Christians?

And we haven’t even gotten to the really hard part yet. Rebuking sin is only a preliminary, preparatory duty. Just as God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him (John 3:17) so our primary duty as Christians is to forgive. And Jesus makes this duty very personal: if he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, ‘I repent,’ forgive him. (It’s interesting to note that whereas rebuke him is a command, forgive him is in the indicative, it’s a promise. When a brother sins against you seven times in one day and all he does is come to you and say “I repent; forgive me” you will, every time.) Again, in a world that loves to dredge up sins from the past and use them to damage careers and reputations today, where holding on to rage seems like a political virtue, where marriages and families and churches are regularly destroyed by the refusal to forgive even once – this sounds impossible. The more cynical part of us might suggest that Jesus must not know what it’s like to be married or to have children or belong to a church with other sinners. If we’re honest though, we might confess what Jesus is commanding is beyond our ability.

And we’re not alone. The apostles recognized how impossible these commands were. They realized that the duties of discipleship required something they didn’t think they had enough of: not clarity, not direction, but faith. They realized – and so should we – that it takes great faith to rebuke and forgive. So they say increase our faith. “Lord, you must increase our faith if we’re to do this!” And how did Jesus respond to this request? “You have enough faith.” If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you. Mulberry trees are troublesome. They have massive root systems. There is as much mulberry tree below the surface as there is above. It’s hard enough to get rid of a mulberry tree, much less plant it in the sea. It’s impossible. But Jesus is saying that if faith the size of a mustard seed can accomplish this impossible task – then faith the size of a mustard seed is more than enough to enable us to carry out our duties of rebuking and forgiving sin. Then why does it still feel so impossible to do what Jesus asks? Why does discipleship seem relatively easy when all we have to do is show up and sit down on Sunday mornings – but impossibly difficult when it comes to properly dealing with sin?

Clearly, Jesus’ point is that it’s not impossible. Maybe a better way to describe it would be “unnatural.” Not causing people to sin, rebuking others when they sin, and forgiving sins against us only appears impossible because it seems so unnatural. An example from recent headlines bears this out. If you happened to see any of the coverage of the sentencing phase of the trial of Amber Guyger, the Dallas police officer who shot and killed a man in his own apartment, you saw a rare and unnatural scene: the victim’s younger brother, Brandt Jean, forgave Amber from the stand and then asked for permission to step down from the stand to give her a hug. Needless to say, even the usually heartless media was struck by this unexpected demonstration of grace and forgiveness. Why? Because it was so unnatural. Because demonstrations and protests are the way people deal with sin today, not grace and forgiveness.

Why does it seem so unnatural and nearly impossible to deal with sin the way Jesus commands? Because we often do what the apostles did: we try to measure our faith. We try to measure if we have the strength, the courage and boldness to do what Jesus commands – and if we feel that we’re short, we use that weakness to justify our failure. That’s a problem. Not a lack of faith problem, but a focus of faith problem. Here’s where Jesus’ little illustration of the mulberry tree applies. His point is that even small faith in the almighty Word of God can do impossible and unnatural things. If God’s Word commanded you to uproot and replant a mulberry tree, you could do it. But God’s Word doesn’t command or promise anything about mulberry trees. It does, however, clearly and frequently, command us to rebuke sin and promise that we will forgive it.

Do you have that kind of faith? The mustard seed size kind of faith that dutifully rebukes and forgives sin simply because God’s Word commands and promises it? No, I don’t either. That’s because discipleship is like a combination lock: two numbers are never enough. You need at least three. Jesus has covered two parts: duty and faith. There’s one more thing needed for the right combination, and that’s grace. That’s where his little parable about plowing, shepherding, and serving comes in. (Worthy of note is the fact that the Bible will later use plowing (1 Corinthians 3:6), herding sheep (1 Peter 5:2), and serving (2 Corinthians 3:6) to describe the work he will give the apostles.) The parable teaches that the only way we can do the impossible, unnatural things Jesus is commanding is by God’s grace.

Wait a minute…where is that in this parable? If we could all read Greek we would see this. In verse 9 Jesus literally asks “he would not give grace (χάριν) the servant because he did what he was told, would he?” By the way Jesus asks the question he’s expecting a “no” answer. No, a master doesn’t give grace to his slave because he does what he’s been told. That’s both unnatural and impossible. You can’t get grace by doing anything – if you could, it wouldn’t be grace (Romans 11:6).

So follow Jesus’ line of logic here: faith is needed to carry out your unnatural and impossible duties as a Christian, but where does faith come from? Grace! And where does grace come from? Grace comes from God, not from you. Look for it inside yourself, look for it in the worthiness of the person or in your thoughts and feelings and you won’t find the grace, the fuel, to do what you’ve been commanded. Grace can only be received from the outside. You can’t merit grace; you can’t win it; you can’t deserve it. At the end of the day, even if you imagine that you’ve done everything God commanded, you couldn’t say you deserve grace.

I said a couple weeks ago that you can often find the Gospel in the part of the parable that seems “off”, that doesn’t seem right, that doesn’t make sense. The Gospel in this parable is that God shatters all the norms of a servant / master relationship. God does what no earthly master ever would. He gives us grace even though we haven’t done what we’ve been told. That’s the part that doesn’t make sense. We don’t do even the small things we’re supposed to do as Christians, and yet, God is still gracious to us. Why? There’s an acronym that tells you everything you need to know about grace: Grace Received At Christ’s Expense. God gives you grace only because of Jesus. He’s the only One who always did what his Father commanded him to do. He never rolled his eyes, never muttered in protest, never argued that it was impossible – he never once failed to rebuke or forgive sin, and he certainly never caused anyone else to sin. He was the perfect person, the perfect disciple. And what was his reward? It was even worse than death by drowning – his reward was death on a cross. God didn’t hang a millstone around his neck – but he did hang all of our sins, every last one of our failures to do duty on him. That weight didn’t drag him to the bottom of the sea, but it did drag him into the depths of hell – where God held him until he had satisfied his righteous wrath. But when he said it is finished (John 19:30), it was. Jesus had drained every last ounce of God’s wrath against us (Romans 8:1) – so that all that’s left in his heart for us now is simple, beautiful, undeserved grace. That’s why, I can say without hesitation that whether you have been dutiful or disobedient, whether your faith is the size of a mountain or a mustard seed, the only thing God has for you is rich, boundless, impossible grace.

Doing our duty as disciples is impossible. It’s impossible for us to perfectly rebuke and forgive sin – no matter how big we think our faith is. But, we can be unworthy, can’t we? And when we confess that we are unworthy servants then we’re right where God wants us. That’s why we call the main things we do in church the means of grace. Baptism is grace poured out on infants who can do absolutely nothing for God. Absolution is the grace of forgiveness applied to self-confessed, guilty sinners. Communion is the gift of Jesus’ own body and blood offered to sinners who can never be worthy to receive them. You can’t deserve to be baptized, absolved, or communed. And yet, through these instruments, God gives you his grace for Jesus’ sake.

So I’ll ask one more time, do you have what it takes to be a disciple, do you have the right combination? Note well what Jesus does and doesn’t command us in this text. He is not commanding us to plant mulberry trees anywhere, but he does command us to rebuke and forgive sin; and he does command us to say we are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty. That’s a confession you can live with and, more importantly, die with, because it is the most basic confession of faith: that we can be disciples by God’s grace and not by our own effort. While our efforts will always fall short, God’s grace in Christ never does. You have God’s grace, and with that gift, you do have the right combination, just what you need to do the impossible and unnatural, to be and remain and do the duties of a Christian. Amen.