Category: Luke

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When Religion Gets In The Way of Redemption

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 13:10-17. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on January 25, 2026.

Amen. Last week I mentioned serving as a missionary in Japan and watching all those videos of mom-and-pop eateries. Often you see elderly obāsans with a pronounced forward curve—a dowager’s hump—age-related, painful, limiting. That image came to mind in our passage.

“Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And behold, there was a woman who had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself… ‘Woman, you are freed from your disability.’ And he laid his hands on her, and immediately she was made straight, and she glorified God” (Luke 13:10–13, ESV).

Luke—the physician—notes both a physical and a spiritual dimension: a “disabling spirit.” Not necessarily elderly, not merely slow, age-related change; crippling, painful, socially stigmatizing. In that world, visible deformity could be read as curse or consequence. Faces turn away. Doors close.

Scripture reminds us not to flatten reality to the merely material—or to sensationalize the spiritual. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against… the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12, ESV). C. S. Lewis warned of two equal and opposite errors: to disbelieve devils entirely, or to cultivate an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. Here, Luke simply shows both dimensions were in play—and Jesus is Lord over them all.

Notice Jesus’ tenderness. He sees her, calls her, speaks freedom, touches her: “Woman, you are freed from your disability.” Immediately she is made straight and glorifies God. Psalm 103 gives us language: “Bless the LORD, O my soul… who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit” (Psalm 103:1–4, ESV).

Not everyone rejoices. “The ruler of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, said to the people, ‘There are six days in which work ought to be done; come on those days and be healed, and not on the Sabbath’” (Luke 13:14, ESV). Jesus answers by turning their own Sabbath casuistry on its head: “Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it away to water it? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?” (Luke 13:15–16, ESV).

They would untie an animal; Jesus looses a woman. Same idea, different object. Their rules could show pity to livestock; their hearts refused mercy to a daughter of Abraham. That’s the hypocrisy Jesus unmasks.

Rules and rhythms matter. Obedience is not a dirty word. “He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says ‘I know him’ but does not keep his commandments is a liar… whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked” (1 John 2:2–6, ESV). The danger comes when religion—our habits, guardrails, traditions—becomes a substitute for redemption, when hedges around the law eclipse the heart of the Lawgiver.

Jesus names the “weightier matters”: “justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others” (Matthew 23:23, ESV). James calls this “religion that is pure and undefiled before God”: “to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” (James 1:27, ESV). In other words, yes—keep the Sabbath holy; and yes—let the Sabbath be a day when the bound are loosed, the bent stand straight, and the forgotten are seen.

Luke concludes: “As he said these things, all his adversaries were put to shame, and all the people rejoiced at all the glorious things that were done by him” (Luke 13:17, ESV). That’s the order we want: shame for hypocrisy, joy for mercy, glory to God. May our practices never muzzle compassion. May our boundaries never bar redemption. Bless the Lord, O my soul.

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The Urgency of Choosing Christ

It’s good to be back in the Gospel of Luke. Luke writes an “orderly account” of Jesus’ life not as mere biography, but to transform lives with the good news. Writing largely to Gentiles, he shows Jesus as the fulfillment of Israel’s story and Lord over all history. We’re in the long section (Luke 9–19) where Jesus journeys to Jerusalem—ultimately, to the cross. Today’s passage (Luke 12:49–13:9) gathers five teachings under one theme: the urgency of choosing Christ.

Jesus begins with an arresting purpose statement: “I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled! I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!” (Luke 12:49–50, ESV). The “fire” evokes judgment language familiar from the prophets. John the Baptist foresaw it: the Messiah would gather wheat and “burn with unquenchable fire” the chaff (Luke 3:16–17, ESV). Scripture is clear—Jesus’ second advent will bring just judgment: “in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God” (2 Thessalonians 1:8–9, ESV).

But verse 50 anchors hope: Jesus’ “baptism” points to His cross. “Now is my soul troubled… But for this purpose I have come to this hour” (John 12:27, ESV). Judgment and mercy meet at Calvary. Those who choose Christ are saved from the fire by His finished work.

Still, that choice brings division. “Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division” (Luke 12:51, ESV). Jesus is the “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6), and in Him “you who once were far off have been brought near… For he himself is our peace” (Ephesians 2:13–14, ESV). Yet the peace with God that believers enjoy can fracture earthly ties, even within families (Luke 12:53; echoing Micah 7). In some cultures, this cost is painfully tangible; still, “the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus” outweighs every loss (Philippians 3:8, ESV).

Jesus then rebukes spiritual dullness. People can read the sky and predict weather, “but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” (Luke 12:56, ESV). His works—the blind seeing, the lame walking, the poor receiving good news—are signs shouting Messiah (cf. Luke 7:22). Hypocrisy blinds; truth is plain.

He presses the urgency with a courtroom picture: settle before judgment. “Make an effort to settle with him on the way, lest he drag you to the judge… I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the very last penny” (Luke 12:58–59, ESV). We cannot pay our sin-debt, but Christ can—and did: God “forgave us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt… This he set aside, nailing it to the cross” (Colossians 2:13–14, ESV). Choose Christ while you’re “on the way.”

Some in the crowd pivot to headlines: Pilate’s brutality, a tower collapse (Luke 13:1–4). Were the victims greater sinners? Jesus won’t play that game. Everyone dies; everyone faces God. “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish” (Luke 13:3, 5, ESV). The point isn’t ranking tragedies; the point is readiness—repentance now.

He closes with a parable (Luke 13:6–9): a fruitless fig tree given one more year—one more gracious chance—to bear fruit before the axe falls. It pictures Israel in Jesus’ day, but it also preaches God’s patience to us. “The Lord is… patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9, ESV). Patience, yes—but not forever: “the day of the Lord will come like a thief” (2 Peter 3:10, ESV). Therefore, choose Christ today: “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Hebrews 4:7, ESV).

And choose Him for His worth, not merely to avoid hell. He is better than every alternative—“fullness of joy” in His presence; “pleasures forevermore” at His right hand (Psalm 16:11, ESV). Stir your heart by seeking Him where He reveals Himself—in His Word, among His people, at His Table. Don’t delay. Christ is worth everything.

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Called to True Repentance

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 12:35–48. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on September 14, 2025.

This morning we looked at Luke 12:35–40, where Jesus tells His disciples, “Stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home from the wedding feast, so that they may open the door to him at once when he comes and knocks.” His message is simple: always be ready. We don’t know the day or the hour of His return, so every moment of our lives ought to be lived in readiness.

The preacher reminded us that this is not a new call for God’s people. Many Christians in the last century looked at world events and believed the Lord’s return was near. On November 29, 1947, the United Nations voted to establish a Jewish homeland after nearly 1,800 years of exile. For Bible-believing Christians, this looked like a direct fulfillment of prophecy, like Amos 9:14–15 where God promised to plant His people back in their land never to be uprooted again. If Israel was back in their homeland, many believed the rapture was just around the corner. Nearly eighty years have passed, and while some things have come to pass, others like the rebuilding of the temple have not. But Scripture reminds us in 2 Peter 3:8–9 that God’s timing is not like ours: “With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” What seems slow to us is actually God’s mercy, giving time for more to come to repentance.

Of course, Christians have understood prophecy in different ways. Some see the millennium as a literal thousand years still to come, others see it as symbolic of the present church age, and still others see it as the spread of the gospel before Christ returns. But whatever our viewpoint, one truth remains the same: Jesus is coming again. We may debate the details, but we cannot ignore the command to be ready.

Jesus uses two pictures to describe readiness. He says, “Stay dressed for action,” or as the old translations put it, “gird up your loins.” In those days, men wore long robes that would get in the way of work or travel, so they would tuck them up into their belts so they could move freely. To stay dressed for action means to live ready, unentangled, unhindered, able to obey quickly. Then He says, “Keep your lamps burning.” In other words, don’t let your faith burn low. Don’t grow drowsy in your walk with God. Be alert, be awake, because He could come at any moment.

And then Jesus gives a surprising promise. He says that when the master returns and finds his servants awake, “Truly, I say to you, he will dress himself for service and have them recline at table, and he will come and serve them.” That is astonishing. The servants are the ones who ought to serve, but here the Master serves them. What a picture of the blessing Christ will give to those who remain faithful and ready.

But there is also a sobering side. Jesus says His coming will be like a thief in the night. You don’t get a calendar notice for when a thief will show up; he comes suddenly. That’s how Christ’s return will be—unexpected, swift, like lightning flashing across the sky.

Peter wanted to know if this warning was just for the apostles, but Jesus’ answer shows it is for everyone. Every servant will give an account. The servant who knows his master’s will and ignores it will be judged severely. The one who is careless with what he has been given will also be held responsible. And then Jesus lays down the principle: “Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required.” Week after week we hear the Word of God. That is a gift, but it also carries responsibility. We cannot treat His Word lightly.

The call is clear. Live watchfully. Keep your faith burning. Be faithful in what God has given you. Christ could come at any moment, or our life could end at any moment. Either way, the question remains: will He find us ready?

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.

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Called to be Free from Anxiety

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 12:22-34. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 24, 2025.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing” (Luke 12:22–23, ESV). This passage represent a movement from last week’s exhortation, “be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15) to today’s call: do not be anxious. Jesus turns from those who have to those who have not. Whether it is abundance or need, the message is the same: there’s more to life than things. To the rich: don’t hoard, be generous. To the needy: do not be anxious.

Jesus gives three illustrations. First, “Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!” Ravens in Israel were like our city pigeons—plentiful and least appreciated—yet God cares for them. Then Jesus asks, “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” Worry drains your energy and changes nothing. It’s the stress we feel when we can’t control what’s happening.” We cannot do “as small a thing” as add an hour to our lives, but God can. He added not just an hour but fifteen years to Hezekiah’s life: “I have heard your prayer… behold, I will add fifteen years to your life.” Anxiety is the opposite of trusting God.

Second, “Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Grass and flowers are temporary: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” If God so clothes what is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, “O you of little faith”? Again, the call is to trust him.

Third, Jesus redirects priorities: “Do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried… Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you.” This echoes the more familiar wording in Matthew 6: “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” This does not mean every Christian should quit work and rely on almsgiving. Some are called to raise support—missionaries, like those who cannot work except in “tent making” situations—but most are not expected to stop earning. Your job may be God’s way of providing for you, your family, the church, and missionaries. The point is priority: seek first the kingdom.

So when Jesus says, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy… Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old… For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” he is giving the highest standard—a superlative—to make the point. The standard is to put your complete trust in God by making his kingdom the absolute priority. Our priorities are revealed by where our money goes and what we worry about. A “golden child” story illustrates this: where the value is, the resources and thoughts go. Follow your spending and your worries, and you will find your treasure.

When we do not trust God, we lean on ourselves. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths… Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones” (Prov. 3:5–8). Not trusting God leads to being wise in our own eyes, not fearing the Lord, and turning toward evil. Bribery shows how both rich and poor can be tempted—whether out of coveting more or out of desperation. A traffic stop in Makati, a suggested bribe, and a 4,000-peso fine show how easy it is to trust in one’s own power rather than in God, and how such corruption keeps a nation in poverty.

This is a high calling, especially for those in need. But the things of this world are fleeting. “Do not love the world or the things in the world… the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever” (1 John 2:15–17). “If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above… Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Col. 3:1–3). You can try to control everything and be consumed by worry, or you can lay it all at the feet of Jesus.

Hear his invitation: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest… you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28–30). Whether you are in abundance or in need, come to Jesus. His yoke is easy. His burden is light.

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A Test of Our Hearts

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 12:13-21. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 17, 2025.

This morning we turned to Luke 12:13–21. Let’s read together. “Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.’ But he said to him, ‘Man, who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?’ And he said to them, ‘Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.’ And he told them a parable, saying, ‘The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, “What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?” And he said, “I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God said to him, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.’” (Luke 12:13–21, ESV).

Here we see a man come to Jesus with what seems like a fair request. He wanted Jesus to settle a family dispute over inheritance. But notice how Jesus responds. He doesn’t get into the legal details. He doesn’t play the role of arbitrator. Instead, he takes the opportunity to warn the crowd: “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness.”

Why? Because Jesus knows the deeper issue isn’t about inheritance—it’s about the heart. Covetousness. Greed. That subtle sin that convinces us life is found in more possessions, more wealth, more stuff. But Jesus says plainly, “One’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

To drive this home, Jesus tells a parable. A rich man’s land produced so much that he ran out of space to store it. His solution? Tear down the barns he already had and build even bigger ones. His reasoning? “This way I can store up everything for myself and then sit back, relax, and enjoy life.” On the surface, it almost sounds wise. Isn’t this what many of us dream of? Working hard, building security, retiring comfortably, and enjoying the fruit of our labor?

But then comes the shocking twist. God says to him, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” What a powerful reminder. All of the man’s planning, all of his storing, all of his comfort and security—it vanished in an instant. His barns stayed full, but his soul was empty.

Notice something in this parable: the man thought only of himself. In just a few short verses, he refers to himself repeatedly—“my crops, my barns, my grain, my goods, my soul.” Not once does he mention God. Not once does he think of others. His world was centered entirely on himself.

That’s why Jesus calls him a fool. Not because he planned ahead, but because he lived as though life was all about possessions, as though wealth was the ultimate treasure, as though his soul could be satisfied with bigger barns. But death exposed the truth—none of it mattered.

And Jesus closes with this piercing line: “So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.” That’s the heart of the message. Being “rich toward God.”

So what does that mean? It means recognizing God as the giver of everything we have. It means being generous, using our resources for the good of others and the glory of God. It means storing up treasures in heaven, where moth and rust cannot destroy. It means, as James reminds us, holding our plans loosely and saying, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” (James 4:15, ESV).

And it also means remembering that Jesus is more than someone who settles disputes. The man in verse 13 wanted Jesus to fix his inheritance problem. But Jesus came for something far greater. He came to free us from sin, from greed, from the lie that life is found in what we own. He came to give us true life—life eternal.

This parable confronts us with a sobering question: are we living for bigger barns, or are we living to be rich toward God? Our possessions will one day be left behind. But Christ offers us a treasure that can never be taken away.