Having Ears to Hear

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 8:1-15. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on August 4, 2024.

I recently came across an intriguing HBO documentary titled “Koran By Heart,” which delves into an international competition held annually in Cairo. This competition is not just about reciting the Koran but singing it. For those who have lived in Muslim-majority countries, you might be familiar with this concept, akin to the Islamic call to prayer that begins with “Allahu Akbar.” This form of worship isn’t entirely foreign to Christians. If you grew up Roman Catholic, you might recall the responsorial psalm, where a cantor sings lines from the psalm of the day, and the congregation responds in song. During my time as a chapel organist at seminary, one of my duties was to accompany the responsorial psalm, much like the contestants in this competition who memorize the entire Quran and sing it without prepared music, adhering to the complex “Rules of Tajweed.”

The Quran, written in Arabic, is about 80,000 words long, roughly the same length as the four Gospels combined. It’s divided into chapters called Suras and verses known as Ayahs. Contestants receive a prompt, perhaps part of an Ayah, and must continue reciting the rest of the Sura from memory. They must improvise the melody on the spot while following precise rules governing rhythm, pronunciation, and even where syllables should originate within the mouth. This daunting task is performed before a panel of experts who score their performance.

The documentary follows three young contestants: nine-year-old Djamil from Senegal, seventeen-year-old Rifdha from the Maldives, and ten-year-old Nabiollah from Tajikistan. Each comes from a Muslim-majority country but none from an Arabic-speaking nation. Remarkably, these children have memorized their religion’s holy book without understanding the language it’s written in. Nabiollah received much attention for his beautiful voice during the preliminary round, while Rifdha achieved the highest mark, ultimately securing second place in the final competition, with Nabiollah taking third. Unfortunately, Djamil recited the wrong Sura due to a prompt that appears multiple times in the Quran.

This scenario, both amazing and tragic, mirrors something within Christianity. It’s possible to engage deeply with the scriptures—attending church regularly, even memorizing passages—without truly understanding or living out their message. This is the heart of our passage today.

In Luke 8, Jesus shares the parable of the sower, which we read together earlier. On the surface, it might be challenging to grasp the parable’s meaning without further explanation. Some seasoned churchgoers might intuit that the parable is about how people respond to God’s Word, particularly the preaching of the Gospel. But before explaining the parable, Jesus delivers a difficult teaching about why He uses parables in the first place.

In Luke 8:9-10, Jesus explains, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of God, but for others they are in parables, so that ‘seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand.'” This teaching is challenging because it implies that, for some, the words of life will be hidden as a form of judgment on their unbelief. John MacArthur sheds light on this, stating, “A judgment falls at this point on Israel, the major turning point. Those who would not believe could not.” The parable without explanation is like a riddle, meaningless without the one who gave it.

Reflecting on the last few sermons from the Gospel of Luke, it becomes evident why this judgment befalls some Israelites, particularly the religious leaders like the Pharisees. They were not genuinely interested in God’s truth, as evidenced by their criticism of both John the Baptist and Jesus. Despite their differences, they found reasons to reject both, demonstrating that no amount of evidence or teaching would satisfy them. As a result, God gives them what they want—a skewed understanding that aligns with their desires rather than the truth.

In my own life, I recall a trip to the Philippines with my family during university. Unfamiliar with the local cuisine, I asked to try a particular barbecue dish. My cousins, with a smirk, ordered it for me. After tasting it, I learned it was “isaw”—barbecued chicken intestines. When I got upset, my cousin responded, “Ginusto mo yan”—”You wanted it!” This phrase encapsulates Jesus’ message in Luke 8:9-10. The Pharisees wanted to control God’s truth, so God allowed them to interpret it as they wished, even if it led to their spiritual downfall.

Jesus then explains the parable of the sower, illustrating how people hear the Gospel. In Luke 8:11-15, He describes four types of hearers: those on the path where the devil quickly snatches the word away, those on rocky ground who believe for a time but fall away during trials, those among thorns who are choked by life’s worries and riches, and finally, those on good soil who hear the word, hold it fast, and bear fruit with patience.

This parable reminds us that not everyone who hears the Word of God will come to saving faith. The crowds that gathered around Jesus, like those filling churches today, are not necessarily a sign of spiritual success. Some churches draw large crowds with a shallow, prosperity-driven message, but even in faithful churches, not everyone who hears the Gospel will respond with true, lasting faith. Our role is to sow the seed faithfully, trusting that God will give the growth.

As Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 3:6-7, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”

Forgiving Sins

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 7:36-50. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on July 28, 2024.

In Galilee, Jesus was making quite a name for Himself. His miracles were the talk of the town, with people even witnessing Him raise the dead. Yet, His teachings were far from ordinary, challenging the status quo and drawing the attention of Jewish leaders. One such leader, a Pharisee named Simon, invited Jesus to dine with him. While the reasons for this invitation are unclear, it’s likely Simon felt pressured by Jesus’ growing popularity among the common people.

As Luke 7:36 tells us, “One of the Pharisees asked him to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table.” Meals in ancient times were often public affairs, especially for prominent figures like Simon. The guests would recline at the table, their feet away from the food, while others from the town could gather nearby to listen in. This context sets the stage for a dramatic encounter that would unfold during this meal.

Luke 7:37–38 describes the scene: “And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment.”

The shock in the room was palpable. The phrase “And behold!” captures the surprise and scandal of the moment. This woman, known in the town as a sinner—likely a prostitute—had entered a Pharisee’s house uninvited. Her presence alone was scandalous, but her actions were even more shocking. She was weeping uncontrollably, wetting Jesus’ feet with her tears, wiping them with her hair, and then anointing His feet with expensive ointment.

This behavior was not just unexpected; it was a bold display of devotion. What this woman did stood in stark contrast to Simon’s lack of hospitality. As we see later in the passage, Simon had neglected the basic courtesies that were due to any guest, let alone a respected teacher like Jesus.

Jesus highlights Simon’s shortcomings in Luke 7:44–46: “Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.’”

The cultural significance of these actions cannot be overstated. Washing a guest’s feet, offering a kiss of greeting, and anointing with oil were acts of respect and honor. Simon’s failure to provide these gestures suggests either a lack of respect or a deliberate slight against Jesus. On the other hand, the sinful woman’s actions demonstrated a deep reverence and love for Jesus, despite her social status.

As the scene unfolds, Simon silently judges both the woman and Jesus. In Luke 7:39, we read, “Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.’” Simon’s reaction reveals his arrogance and self-righteousness. He believes that if Jesus were truly a prophet, He would not allow such a sinful woman to touch Him.

But Jesus, aware of Simon’s thoughts, responds with a parable in Luke 7:41-42: “A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon reluctantly answers, “The one, I suppose, for whom he canceled the larger debt” (Luke 7:43).

Jesus uses this parable to highlight the difference between Simon and the woman. While both are sinners, the woman recognizes the depth of her sin and responds with overwhelming love and gratitude. Simon, on the other hand, fails to see his own need for forgiveness.

Jesus’ final words to the woman are profound: “Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little” (Luke 7:47). Jesus then assures her, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:50).

This passage challenges us to reflect on our own hearts. Are we like Simon, quick to judge others while blind to our own sin? Or are we like the woman, aware of our need for forgiveness and overwhelmed by the grace of God? Romans 3:23–24 reminds us, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.”

May we respond to God’s grace with humility and love, recognizing that we all stand in need of His mercy.

Overcoming Doubt

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 7:18-35. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on July 14, 2024.

Joshua Harris’s journey is a cautionary tale that many in the Christian community are familiar with. Once a leading figure in the purity movement, Harris became a pastor and authored books that shaped a generation’s views on relationships. But his life took unexpected turns. In 2018, Harris apologized for his earlier teachings, divorced his wife in 2019, and declared he no longer considered himself a Christian. Reflecting on his journey, Harris shared on Instagram, “I used to have all the answers—chapter and verse. Now I’m happily uncertain and enjoying the wonder and mystery of life.”

This shift reveals an underlying issue: the danger of certainty without room for doubt. Harris’s story serves as a backdrop to the main topic of our discussion today—how doubt can play a role in our faith journey.

As we journey through the Gospel of Luke, we’ve seen Jesus preach the “Upside Down Kingdom,” where the poor are blessed, enemies are loved, and cheeks are turned instead of retaliating. This kingdom, as preached in the Sermon on the Plain, turns conventional wisdom on its head. Now, as we move into Luke chapter 7, Jesus demonstrates this kingdom’s principles through his interactions with people who were often seen as outsiders.

One of these encounters is with a Roman centurion who sought healing for his servant (Luke 7:1-10). Then, Jesus raises a widow’s son from the dead, causing a stir throughout the region (Luke 7:11-17). Word of these miracles even reaches John the Baptist, leading to a moment of doubt that is the focus of our passage today.

Luke 7:18-20 tells us, “The disciples of John reported all these things to him. And John, calling two of his disciples to him, sent them to the Lord, saying, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?’”

At first glance, this question might seem like a simple request for confirmation. But it reveals a deeper struggle within John—a doubt about Jesus’ identity as the Messiah.

To understand this doubt, we need to consider John’s life. From birth, John was set apart for a special mission. An angel had told his father, Zechariah, that John would “be great before the Lord… and he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God” (Luke 1:14-16). John embraced this mission, calling people to repentance and baptizing them in preparation for the Messiah’s arrival.

When Jesus finally appeared, John recognized him as the one he had been waiting for. But after boldly confronting Herod Antipas about his immoral behavior, John found himself in prison. Meanwhile, Jesus, the Messiah John had proclaimed, seemed to be allowing evil to persist, and John remained in jail. This wasn’t the messianic overthrow of evil John had expected. Doubt crept in, leading him to ask, “Shall we look for another?”

Many of us have experienced similar moments of doubt. We look at the world around us and see evil flourishing, or we face personal tragedies that shake our faith. Doubt is often met with shame, either self-imposed or from others. But the Bible shows us that God allows room for doubt. Sarah doubted when God promised her a child in her old age (Genesis 18:12). Moses doubted his ability to lead Israel out of Egypt (Exodus 4:10). Even Elijah, after a great victory, doubted when Jezebel threatened his life (1 Kings 19:3-4).

In the New Testament, we see that Jesus’ own family thought he was out of his mind, his disciples abandoned him, Peter denied him, and Thomas refused to believe in the resurrection without physical proof. Doubt is a natural part of the faith journey, and it’s something that even the most faithful figures in the Bible have experienced.

Jesus doesn’t rebuke John for his doubts. Instead, he responds in a way that reassures him. Luke 7:21-23 records, “In that hour he healed many people of diseases and plagues and evil spirits, and on many who were blind he bestowed sight.” Then Jesus tells John’s disciples, “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me.”

Jesus reminds John of the prophecies from Isaiah, showing him that the Messiah’s work is being fulfilled. This is a powerful validation of who Jesus is and an encouragement for John to hold on to his faith.

In our moments of doubt, we should remember that we are in good company. Like John the Baptist, our doubts do not disqualify us from God’s love or from being used by Him. Instead, we are invited to bring our doubts to Jesus, who reassures us with His actions and His words.

As we navigate the Upside Down Kingdom, may we hold fast to our faith, even in the face of uncertainty, and trust that God is at work, even when we can’t see it.

The Widow’s Son

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 7:11-16. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on June 16, 2024.

In our journey through the Gospel of Luke, we’ve been exploring a series of messages that reveal the heart of Jesus and the principles of His Kingdom. These teachings, often referred to as the “Upside-Down Kingdom,” challenge the world’s expectations, flipping conventional wisdom on its head. Jesus’ sermon on the plain, which echoes the more famous Sermon on the Mount, is filled with teachings that call us to live in ways that seem contrary to our natural inclinations—blessing the poor, loving our enemies, and turning the other cheek.

This theme of an upside-down Kingdom is not just limited to His teachings but is also vividly demonstrated in His interactions with those who were often considered outsiders. One such instance occurs in Luke 7:1-10, where Jesus encounters a Roman centurion seeking healing for his servant. The centurion, a representative of the very empire oppressing the Jews, demonstrates a faith that amazes even Jesus. This story sets the stage for the next encounter, which takes place in a small, insignificant village called Nain.

The Village of Nain: A Scene of Sorrow

In Luke 7:11-12, we find Jesus entering Nain, a small village about 10 kilometers southeast of Nazareth. This village was so small that it likely had only a few hundred inhabitants. Jesus, perhaps just passing through, encounters a funeral procession at the town gate. The scene is one of profound sorrow: a widow is burying her only son. The text emphasizes her plight, saying, “As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her” (Luke 7:12, ESV).

This verse is often considered one of the most tragic in the Bible. The loss of a child is a sorrow that few can comprehend, and for this widow, the pain is compounded by the fact that she has already buried her husband. In the ancient world, a woman without a husband or son would face economic destitution, relying entirely on male relatives for her livelihood. This widow, now bereft of both her husband and her only son, faces an uncertain and bleak future.

The Compassion of Jesus

As the funeral procession moves forward, Jesus sees the widow and is moved with compassion. Luke 7:13-15 records, “And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’ Then he came up and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, ‘Young man, I say to you, arise.’ And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother” (ESV).

What is striking about this passage is how focused Jesus is on the widow. Despite the considerable crowd and the commotion of the funeral, Jesus zeroes in on her suffering. He doesn’t just observe; He acts. His compassion moves Him to intervene in a way that changes everything for this woman. In the grand scheme of Jesus’ mission, one might wonder what difference this miracle made. But this is precisely the point—Jesus’ ministry is not just about grand, world-changing events; it’s also about the individual, the marginalized, and the forgotten.

Jesus’ actions in Nain remind us that He is deeply compassionate, entering into our grief and suffering. This compassion is not just a response to the widow’s sorrow but a reflection of the Father’s heart. Jesus makes it clear that His actions are a direct expression of the Father’s will, saying in John 14:9-10, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?” (ESV).

Our Confidence in Christ’s Compassion

The compassion of Christ is a source of immense comfort for us. He understands our pain, and because of this, we can approach Him with confidence, knowing that He will meet us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:15-16 encourages us with these words: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (ESV).

This assurance is beautifully captured in Matthew 11:28-29, where Jesus invites us, saying, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (ESV).

As we reflect on the compassion of Christ, especially on a day like Father’s Day, we are reminded that this compassion is a reflection of the Father’s love for us. Psalm 103:13-14 declares, “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust” (ESV).

May we, in turn, be moved by this same compassion in our own lives, reaching out to those who are hurting, just as Jesus did.

The Centurion’s Servant

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 7:1-10. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on May 19, 2024.

In a recent incident from Rochester, New York, a District Attorney named Sandra Doorley found herself in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. While driving 55 miles per hour in a 35-mile zone, Doorley was pulled over by a police officer. However, instead of stopping, she continued driving until she reached her home, where the officer confronted her. Doorley, known for her role as a government lawyer prosecuting crimes, refused to comply with the officer’s orders. The situation escalated when she called the town’s police chief, further complicating matters.

This incident quickly sparked controversy, with local and state officials expressing concern over Doorley’s behavior. Her actions were widely criticized as a potential abuse of authority, a stark reminder of how power can sometimes lead to a sense of entitlement. In moments like these, one might ask, “Do you know who I am?” This question, often associated with those in positions of power, serves as a fitting backdrop for the scripture passage we’ll explore today.

As we delve into the Gospel of Luke, we begin a new sermon series here at GCF Toronto, focusing on the concept of the “Upside Down Kingdom.” Previously, we examined Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain, where He taught about living and acting as His disciples. In this sermon, Jesus flipped the world’s expectations upside down: the poor are blessed, enemies are to be loved, and when struck, we are to turn the other cheek. These teachings introduced us to the idea of the “Upside Down Kingdom,” where conventional wisdom is turned on its head.

Today, we see this principle in action as Jesus interacts with those who would typically be considered outsiders. Our story begins with an unusual outsider—a Roman Centurion.

Luke 7:1–2 introduces us to this Centurion: “After he had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. Now a centurion had a servant who was sick and at the point of death, who was highly valued by him.” The Centurion, a Roman officer in charge of about 100 soldiers, was a figure of authority and power. In our modern context, this might seem insignificant, but in the ancient world, his position was one of considerable influence.

At the peak of the Roman Empire, the army was dispersed across vast territories, and officers like the Centurion had not only military command but also administrative authority over the areas they were stationed. This Centurion, stationed in Capernaum, had developed a strong relationship with the Jewish elders in the region, which becomes evident in their plea to Jesus.

Luke 7:3–5 tells us, “When the centurion heard about Jesus, he sent to him elders of the Jews, asking him to come and heal his servant. And when they came to Jesus, they pleaded with him earnestly, saying, ‘He is worthy to have you do this for him, for he loves our nation, and he is the one who built us our synagogue.'” The fact that these Jewish elders advocated for a Roman officer, despite their general resentment toward the Romans, speaks volumes about the Centurion’s character.

But even more telling is the Centurion’s attitude toward his dying servant. In Luke 7:2–3, we learn that the Centurion’s servant, better understood as his slave (δοῦλος in Greek), was highly valued by him. The term “valued” here is translated from ἔντιμος, meaning highly regarded, honored, or respected. This wasn’t just any slave; this was someone the Centurion deeply cared for, enough to seek out Jesus for healing.

The Centurion’s desperation reminds me of the story of Andy Kaufman, a comedian who, after being diagnosed with lung cancer, sought out various treatments in vain. His desperation led him to the Philippines, where he sought a fake “psychic surgeon” in a last-ditch effort to be cured. This desperate search for healing mirrors the Centurion’s own situation. However, unlike Kaufman, the Centurion sought out someone real—Jesus, who has the power over life and death.

As Jesus approaches the Centurion’s home, something remarkable happens. In Luke 7:6–7, we read, “And Jesus went with them. When he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends, saying to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. Therefore I did not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed.'” The Centurion, despite his authority, recognizes his unworthiness before Jesus. He understands that Jesus doesn’t even need to be physically present to heal his servant.

In Luke 7:8, the Centurion explains, “For I too am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me: and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” The Centurion’s understanding of authority allows him to grasp something that even Jesus’ closest followers had not yet fully understood—Jesus’ authority transcends physical presence.

Jesus is so impressed by the Centurion’s faith that He declares in Luke 7:9, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” The Centurion, a Gentile and Roman officer, demonstrates a faith that surpasses even that of the people of Israel.

This Centurion knew who he truly was in the presence of Jesus, and this recognition led him to a profound faith. In contrast to the earlier story of Sandra Doorley, who relied on her position of power, the Centurion humbled himself before the true authority of Christ.

As we reflect on this passage, let us remember who we are in Christ. As 2 Corinthians 5:17 reminds us, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” In Christ, we find our true identity, one that is not based on our own authority or accomplishments, but on His grace and power.