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Luke 15:1-7

1 Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. 2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

3 Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.”

Welcome Back!

“Welcome back!” Sometimes when you hear those words, they make all the sense in the world. For goodness sakes, summer break just ended. School started last week. You could almost set your clock to how many teachers were going to say, “Welcome back!” to their students. Sometimes it just makes all the sense in the world.

Other times, though, those words catch you off guard. Maybe it’ll happen sometime next week when the excitement of syllabus day and seeing your friends again turns into the drudgery of daily classwork. You find yourself daydreaming until your teacher calls your name. “Welcome back,” they might say. You hadn’t gone anywhere, but your thoughts were a million miles away. Or maybe there’s this interaction that you’ve been dreading. The last time you talked to this person it didn’t end well. You’re not sure how you’ll be received. But when you see them, they have a big smile on their face, and you’re relieved to hear those two glorious words: “Welcome back.”

Today is “Back to Church Sunday” here at St. Peter. You might have heard those words as you walked in the door, from people who love you and care about you and missed you or are just glad to get to know you. Better yet, we get to hear those words from our Saviour in a way that speaks directly to our hearts and fills them with a joy we can’t help but share.

That’s one of the major, recurring themes of Jesus’ parable, after all – joy. What does he do when he finds his lost sheep? He joyfully puts it on his shoulders. What does he do when he gets home? He calls his friends and neighbours together and says, “Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.” It’s all about joy.

But let me ask you this, if you were that shepherd and one of your hundred sheep wandered away, and you had to leave the 99 out in the open country just to go chase after the 1, what is the emotion you’d feel when you found it? Would it be joy? Or would it be something else?

You’ve probably been in that situation. You realize your dog got out of the yard while you’re making dinner. You have to leave it in the oven and risk it burning to a crisp just to chase after that lousy mutt. How are you going to greet that dog when you finally grab hold of its collar? Your employee goes rogue. You can’t spend time with your good employees doing the good work you want to. You have to go chase down the bad one and do damage control instead. What’s going through your mind as you head to their workstation? Your son or daughter does the exact thing you told them repeatedly not to do and now they’re in trouble, and you have to drop what you’re doing again to bail them out of an entirely avoidable situation. How hard is it going to be not to say, “What did I tell you?”

Which is what makes what Jesus says here so strange. What does the shepherd do when he finds his lost sheep – the one that made his life and the lives of the other 99 so much harder? He joyfully puts it on his shoulders. What does that shepherd do when he gets home? He calls his friends and neighbours and says, “Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.” He throws a party. That’s ridiculous! Who would do that?

But as strange as those things are, I don’t think they’re the strangest thing Jesus says. There are two words that just blow my mind. Can you guess what they are? “Doesn’t he…?”

To introduce this parable, Jesus poses a question: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he… leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” (Luke 15:4)

The way Jesus phrases this question assumes that the answer is obviously affirmative, i.e. “Of course, the shepherd would leave the 99 and go after the one! Wouldn’t you?” Would you? What’s one out of a hundred? It’s a penny – a monetary value so small we don’t even have that denomination in circulation anymore; we don’t use pennies because they’re so insignificant. It’s a decimal point, a rounding error. If you are rich enough to have 100 sheep, one is more than an acceptable loss.

But not to Jesus. To him the choice is obvious. Of course he’d drop everything to chase after the one, to go rescue you, because that’s who you are. You are the 1%. You are the lost sheep.

Now, I would imagine that more than one of us here already feels that way. Whether it’s a struggle with alcohol or pornography, whether it’s been years since you’ve darkened the doorsteps of a church, whether you’ve done legitimately despicable things in your life – you have a public record that would make your mother blush – whatever it is, that title of lost sheep just fits like a glove.

For others of us, though, “lost sheep” is the last thing we’d call ourselves. We’re here, after all, aren’t we? We’re where we’re supposed to be, we’re doing the kinds of things we’re supposed to be doing, but some days it’s a classic case of that second week of school syndrome. You may be where you’re supposed to be, but your mind and your heart are a million miles away, and you don’t realize how long you’ve been spiritually sleepwalking through life until the Lord calls your name, until you get that wakeup call. Something bad happens – or even just threatens to happen – and you get angry. You lash out at people who haven’t even done anything bad to you. Something bad happens – or even just threatens to happen – and you get depressed. You withdraw. You feel worthless and helpless and hopeless. Those are symptoms of spiritual sleepwalking. Those are signs that you’re straying from your shepherd.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter which sheep you are – the one that is obviously lost or the one that is obliviously lost. Lost is lost. Sheep aren’t exactly known for their homing mechanisms. They are also notoriously hopelessly defenseless. There’s not much a lost sheep can do to protect itself. And it’s only a matter of time until the wolf comes and turns a lost sheep into a dead sheep. That’s the kind of spiritual danger each of us is in every time we stray – obviously or obliviously – away from our shepherd. That’s also what inspires our Shepherd to chase after us.

Look at the love that shepherd has for his lost sheep. That’s the kind of love Jesus has for you – the kind of love that is willing to drop everything to chase after you. Jesus didn’t leave you to your own devices. He didn’t consider you an acceptable loss. He left the green pastures of heaven and descended into this world of danger and death to redeem you. He put his life on the line and lost it on the cross to forgive you your sinful waywardness and to lead you to life everlasting.

And this wasn’t just something that Jesus did 2,000 years ago. It’s something he continues to do for you. He continues to chase after you. He brought you here, so that you could be like the tax collectors and sinners from Luke 15 who were there to gather around Jesus to listen to him. Someday I’d like to literally ask you this, but think about all the different reasons each of us is here today. For some of you it’s a habit, but one, I pray, that becomes personal when you see how personal God’s love for you in Christ is. Some of you are here because God put that person in your life to inspire you or invite you to worship your God and Saviour. Some of you are here because God gave you a wakeup call – a divorce, a death in the family, a tragedy that’s causing you to ask all the right questions so that you can find your answer in Jesus, in a shepherd who considers it the obvious choice to leave the 99 and pursue you personally.

And what does he do when he finds you? What does God do when he gets you here – either to this place and this worship service, or to this point in your life that you’re willing to listen to him? Does he wag his finger at you? Does he look at you with disappointment in his eyes? Does he lecture you into submission? No. He joyfully lifts you up in his arms and brings you home. And then he shares his joy in finding his lost sheep with all the residents of heaven.

That’s Jesus’ whole point with this parable. In the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. (Luke 15:7)

Jesus was not pleased with the Pharisees’ self-righteousness, in the same way that God is not pleased when we try to pretend that we don’t need rescue. But when we repent, God rejoices and the angels with him. When we admit our sinfulness and depend on his grace, heaven erupts in celebration. You were lost, but now you are found. You were sinful, but now you are forgiven. And through it all, every step of the way, you were and are the recipient of God’s relentless, personal, passionate love.

So, welcome back. Sure, welcome back to church after a busy summer. Welcome back to God’s house after however long it’s been since you’ve been here last. But above all, welcome back to God’s forgiving love all you sheep who were lost but now are found, all you sinners saved by God’s grace. You are exactly the kind of people Jesus loves and pursues and welcomes. Continue to listen to him. Amen.

Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy – to the only God our Saviour be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen. (Jude 24,25)

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Guard Your Hearts

1 Kings 21:1-16

1 Some time later there was an incident involving a vineyard belonging to Naboth the Jezreelite. The vineyard was in Jezreel, close to the palace of Ahab king of Samaria. 2 Ahab said to Naboth, “Let me have your vineyard to use for a vegetable garden, since it is close to my palace. In exchange I will give you a better vineyard or, if you prefer, I will pay you whatever it is worth.”

3 But Naboth replied, “The Lord forbid that I should give you the inheritance of my ancestors.”

4 So Ahab went home, sullen and angry because Naboth the Jezreelite had said, “I will not give you the inheritance of my ancestors.” He lay on his bed sulking and refused to eat.

5 His wife Jezebel came in and asked him, “Why are you so sullen? Why won’t you eat?”

6 He answered her, “Because I said to Naboth the Jezreelite, ‘Sell me your vineyard; or if you prefer, I will give you another vineyard in its place.’ But he said, ‘I will not give you my vineyard.’ ”

7 Jezebel his wife said, “Is this how you act as king over Israel? Get up and eat! Cheer up. I’ll get you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite.”

8 So she wrote letters in Ahab’s name, placed his seal on them, and sent them to the elders and nobles who lived in Naboth’s city with him. 9 In those letters she wrote:

“Proclaim a day of fasting and seat Naboth in a prominent place among the people. 10 But seat two scoundrels opposite him and have them bring charges that he has cursed both God and the king. Then take him out and stone him to death.”

11 So the elders and nobles who lived in Naboth’s city did as Jezebel directed in the letters she had written to them. 12They proclaimed a fast and seated Naboth in a prominent place among the people. 13 Then two scoundrels came and sat opposite him and brought charges against Naboth before the people, saying, “Naboth has cursed both God and the king.” So they took him outside the city and stoned him to death. 14 Then they sent word to Jezebel: “Naboth has been stoned to death.”

15 As soon as Jezebel heard that Naboth had been stoned to death, she said to Ahab, “Get up and take possession of the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite that he refused to sell you. He is no longer alive, but dead.” 16 When Ahab heard that Naboth was dead, he got up and went down to take possession of Naboth’s vineyard.

Guard Your Hearts

King Ahab was never much of a role model for the Northen Kingdom of Israel. In fact, just after this section, the history tells us that “There was never anyone like Ahab, who sold himself to do evil in the eyes of the Lord.”[1] Ahab and his pagan wife, Jezebel, used their political power to spread idolatry all over Israel, wiping out followers of the true God everywhere they could. When God sent prophets to scold the king for his self-serving dealings, Ahab’s reaction was more often resentment than repentance.

Naboth, on the other hand, was by all accounts a fine, upstanding Israelite who happened to own a vineyard next to Ahab’s summer palace up north. Ahab clearly saw the real estate value in his neighbour’s land, and, to his credit, he offered Naboth a more than generous deal. “ ‘Let me have your vineyard to use for a vegetable garden, since it is close to my palace. In exchange I will give you a better vineyard or, if you prefer, I will pay you whatever it is worth.’ ”[2] No catch, no strings attached; this was a buyout that could skyrocket Naboth’s net worth. A no-brainer, right?

And yet, Naboth responds pretty harshly: “The Lord forbid that I should give you the inheritance of my ancestors.” Yikes! Why would Naboth react so strongly to such a good deal?

The truth is, Naboth’s land had more than just sentimental or even monetary value. This “inheritance” went back more than 500 years, when the Israelites first came to the Promised Land. Even before they arrived, while they were still wandering in the wilderness, God laid out specific instructions on how the land was to be divided up. Essentially, whatever was assigned to your family, your clan, your tribe—that would stay in your family’s line forever. Even if you were flat broke and had to sell something to stay afloat, every 50 years all the boundary lines were reset and all debts were cancelled.

That was how God designed his chosen nation to work. Not because God opposes capitalism or business deals—it was because none of them owned the land in the first place. All of it was God’s property, and he wanted them to take care of it without getting too caught up in building their net worth or becoming real estate moguls. Their inheritance was about more than just property. God was guarding their hearts from covetous desires—because he had an even better inheritance in store for them.

Naboth understood the true value of his inheritance from the Lord. Ahab didn’t. And so, when Naboth rightly refused his deal, Ahab threw a tantrum. “So Ahab went home, sullen and angry because Naboth the Jezreelite had said, ‘I will not give you the inheritance of my ancestors.’ He lay on his bed sulking and refused to eat.”

This behavior is hardly appropriate for a child, let alone the king of Israel. It’s the type of entitlement that gets your blood boiling. What right does he have to put his desires over others’? Why should he get to profit from someone else’s loss?

But this type of entitlement isn’t only something you see in kings and princes. We all feel like we deserve to get more or to give less. We might not come out and say it, but we do often play the comparison game as we try to measure out exactly how much we deserve. If you don’t believe me, think of the times you’ve compared your junky old car to your neighbor’s third upgrade in three years. Or what about that extra-long paid lunch break you gave yourself for having such a tough morning at work, hoping your boss wouldn’t notice? Or maybe it’s even more subtle, policing what qualifies as one’s “fair share.” Because really, how many times do you need to ask your spouse to pull their own weight? So-and-so never even has to ask—why can’t my marriage be like that?

Maybe it doesn’t ever go much farther than a few words or private thoughts—but that’s no better. Because it’s not enough just to seem honorable. Luther pointed out, as we all read together just minutes ago, the 9th and 10thCommandments are addressed “precisely to the most respectable”—to those who have made it through the first 8 Commandments and are still feeling comfortable. You may not have stolen and broken the 7th Commandment. But to covet, to chase after what belongs to others or to become sullen and angry over what we can’t have—that’s just as dangerous.

Because when we look to the treasures of this world for our comfort and contentment, it means we’re not looking to God for the comfort or contentment that he offers. We start to worship the things we want, not the God who gives all good things. Like the wicked King Ahab, we become guilty of idolatry. In our Second Reading, Paul warns that “Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”[3]To harbor these cravings in your heart is more than just a childish tantrum. It’s a rejection of God’s will, insisting that we know what we really need. And if you follow your heart’s desires after what the world offers, you may end up on a path that wanders from God and ends in eternal death—because in the end, that’s all this world can offer you.

For all his schemes, Ahab could never truly lay hands on Naboth’s inheritance. Because while Ahab saw the potential for a vegetable garden, something infinitely more valuable would grow from that Promised Land—a shoot from the stump of Jesse, the True Vine, the Messiah. He saw our desperate need, not for more wealth, but for a Saviour. He saw our hearts, defenseless against temptation, and so he came to fight for us. To guard our hearts and to make us heirs of eternal life. Not by our subtle plans or crafty deals, but a gift by his grace.

God had every right to refuse us, to leave us to the worldly riches that we chose over him. But in his love for us, Jesus, the all-powerful Son of God, didn’t get sullen and angry when we sinned against him. He didn’t sulk back into heaven and pout on his pillow. Instead, he gave up every material good, taking the very nature of a servant, because the true desire of his heart… was you. Your eternal good. He valued what truly matters, and he paid far more than what Ahab was willing to pay for Naboth’s vineyard. His blood, poured out for you, for the forgiveness of your sins. So that he could have your heart. So that he could give you an inheritance—eternal life as a redeemed child of God.

Ahab was so focused on what his heart desired that he missed all of this. But we don’t have to. Because we have one who guards our hearts with us. In his mercy, God always gives us a way out when we are tempted. Just think about all the ways that the rest of this tragic story could have played out better if more people had used their escape hatches from sin. Think about it: His wife Jezebel came in and asked him, “Why are you so sullen? Why won’t you eat?” He answered her, “Because I said to Naboth the Jezreelite, ‘Sell me your vineyard; or if you prefer, I will give you another vineyard in its place.’ But he said, ‘I will not give you my vineyard.’ ” Jezebel his wife said, “Is this how you act as king over Israel? Get up and eat! Cheer up. I’ll get you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite.”[4]

Like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, like the devil on Ahab’s shoulder, Jezebel came in and took control. Even here, Ahab could have, should have realized that Jezebel was not going to find some honourable solution that he overlooked, and that he needed to stop her before she went through with her plan. But he didn’t. If she was going to get him what he wanted, he didn’t care what it took. As Paul warns, “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.”[5]

Maybe we couldn’t expect much more from the wicked Ahab and Jezebel. But again, think of how many ways this could have been prevented. The elders and nobles of Naboth’s own city, people who knew him and were responsible for seeing that justice prevailed. The scoundrels, who, if they had just an ounce of integrity, could have refused to lie, no matter what their queen commanded. Nobody needed to pick up a stone. Any one of them could have spoken up or resisted. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked—Jezebel certainly could have put the whole town to death, if she wanted. But better to die with Naboth than to live with his blood on your hands.

That’s what God asks of his heirs. Not just that we have “squeaky clean” hands, like Pontius Pilate, as if we can stay innocent by refusing to get involved. But a clean heart. A heart that stands firm and pure against the tainted desires of this world and seeks to do what is right, even when it seems hopeless or even dangerous.

Maybe you’ve found yourself a in vicious loop like the people of Naboth’s city. It rarely feels so dramatic; often it’s just a matter of how busy you were in the moment, so that you felt you couldn’t spare the time. It could be at work, and you notice something that isn’t quite right, but you think, “Someone will catch the mistake later. I’ve got more important things to do.”  Or there’s a coworker or family member that just refuses to do what they should. And you end up wondering, “Why do I have to be the one to do the right thing?”

The 9th and 10th Commandments teach us to guard our hearts not just against covetous desires, but against the callousness that lets us think our neighbour’s needs are none of our concern. But Jesus was our perfect substitute there, too. Jesus didn’t let the tyranny of a busy timetable distract him from what was eternally important—your soul.  He didn’t complain about our failures to do the right thing or resent the fact that he had to be the one to right our wrongs. Instead, he willingly put himself in Naboth’s place and suffered even worse injustice: falsely accused of blasphemy, sentenced by an angry mob, mocked and beaten, executed in place of the true scoundrels and criminals. All to spare you the just punishment for your sin. All to give you an inheritance that no one, not even death, can take away from you.

Jesus doesn’t leave you without a means of defense. Paul speaks the truth when he says, “Godliness with contentment is great gain.”[6] True contentment is your weapon against a covetous heart, and Christ gives it to you. He gives you the knowledge that your sins are forgiven. He gives you his own body and blood for you to taste and see that his death was for you. He gives you the confidence that no matter what injustice you face in the world, you have been made righteous before the one who will come to judge all things. He gives you the peace of knowing your Father who graciously provides you with your daily bread, from the literal bread you eat, to the clothes you wear, to the friends and family who cherish you. What reason do we have to be sullen or angry, when our God gives us so much?

All of this he gives out of an abundance of love for you and your soul. And he does the same thing… for your neighbor. Their earthly blessings may not look identical to yours, but they share the same status as coheirs in Christ—the same blood washes their sins away and offers them the inheritance of eternal life. But in this world, he also sends them neighbours who can help defend what blessings he has given them. He sends them… you. So that you can be yet another blessing in their life, showing them yet again how gracious and loving our God is, who has us always and forever at the centre of his heart’s desire.

So, guard your hearts. Guard your hearts from the desires it longs to chase after—because you have an inheritance worth infinitely more. Guard your hearts from the unfairness that threatens to overwhelm you—not because it’s easy, but because God gives you all you need. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.[7] Amen.

[1] 1 Kings 21:25

[2] 1 Kings 21:2

[3] 1 Timothy 6:20

[4] 1 Kings 21:5–7

[5] 1 Timothy 6:20

[6] 1 Timothy 6:6

[7] Philippians 4:7

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