Tag: Parables of Jesus

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The Relentless Father

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 15:11-31. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on March 22, 2026.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son is one of Jesus’s most well-known stories. It is a beautiful picture of repentance and salvation, often taught in Sunday school from the time we are young. But because it is so popular, we sometimes miss the complete picture. To truly grasp the weight of this parable, we have to look past the familiar story and understand the context in which Jesus told it.

In Luke 15:1-2, tax collectors and sinners were drawing near to Jesus, and the Pharisees grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” Tax collectors were considered traitors who defrauded their fellow Jews for the Roman Empire. The group called “sinners” included those living in obvious moral failure, but it also included the poor, sick, and lame—people deemed ritually unclean by their circumstances. Instead of helping them find restoration through the law of Moses, the Pharisees simply excluded them. Jesus told this parable as a direct response to their self-righteous gatekeeping.

Jesus begins with a scandalous premise: a younger son demands his share of the inheritance. In first-century Jewish culture, this was not just asking for an early allowance; it was essentially saying, “Father, I wish you were dead. I want your stuff, but I don’t want a relationship with you.” Shockingly, the father agrees and divides his livelihood. The son liquidates his assets—causing a massive, public economic blow to the family—and squanders it in reckless living. When a severe famine hits, he reaches absolute rock bottom. He hires himself out to feed pigs, an incredibly shameful job for a Jew, and becomes so starving he longs to eat the pig slop.

Coming to his senses, the son realizes his father’s hired servants live better than he does. He decides to return, hoping merely to be accepted as a slave. But verse 20 tells us that while he was still a long way off, his father saw him. The father had been watching the road, longing for his son’s return. Filled with compassion, the father runs—an undignified and shameful act for an elderly patriarch—and embraces his dirty, pig-smelling son. By giving him the best robe, a ring, and shoes, the father takes the son’s public shame upon himself and completely restores him to the family. They kill the fatted calf and celebrate, illustrating the joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.

If Jesus stopped there, it would be a perfect story of grace. But He introduces a curveball: the older brother. Hearing the music, the older son refuses to go inside. By refusing his expected role as a host in the celebration, the older brother brings a fresh wave of public shame upon his father. When the father graciously comes out to entreat him, the older son angrily refers to his sibling not as his brother, but as “this son of yours.” He reveals that he, too, only wanted what the father’s estate could give him, not a true relationship with the father. Jesus was holding up a mirror to the scribes and Pharisees. They were the older brother—outwardly obedient, but inwardly distant, judgmental, and refusing to celebrate the lost being found.

This leaves us with a sobering warning about how we react when we hear about an unbeliever getting saved. It is easy to respond with skepticism, especially if it is someone famous or someone with a very messy past. We might cross our arms and say, “Let’s wait and see if it’s real.” But responding with skepticism betrays an unbelief in the power of the gospel itself. If we doubt God’s power to save the worst of sinners, how can we confidently trust His power to save us?

Salvation is from God alone. Let us guard our hearts against the cynical attitude of the older brother. Instead, let us choose to rejoice—just as the angels do—whenever a lost soul finally comes home.

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Seeking the Treasure of Lost Souls

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 15:1-10. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on March 8, 2026.

Today, we are looking at Luke 15, which contains some of the best-known teachings of Jesus, including the parable of the prodigal son. However, before getting to that famous story, Jesus tells two shorter parables that perfectly set the stage: the parable of the lost sheep and the parable of the lost coin. These two parables provide essential insights into evangelism and what it truly means to seek the lost. To understand them, we first have to understand the situation that prompted Jesus to tell them.

Luke tells us that tax collectors and sinners were drawing near to Jesus, and the Pharisees and scribes grumbled, saying that He receives sinners and eats with them. Jesus was speaking directly against the religious leaders of His day who were ignoring and ostracizing entire groups of people. Tax collectors were despised as corrupt traitors who extorted their fellow Jews on behalf of the Roman Empire. The group labeled “sinners” included those living in overt moral failure, but it also included people who were ritually impure due to sickness or disability. Instead of helping these marginalized people find restoration through the grace of God, the Pharisees acted as gatekeepers, completely shunning them.

Unfortunately, this holier-than-thou attitude can still be found in some churches today. There is sometimes a bias that assumes people who look, dress, or speak differently do not belong. But Jesus made His mission clear: it is the sick who need a physician, not the healthy. A church must be a place of healing for those on the margins of society. I remember ministering to a homeless man in Fort McMurray who used to sleep inside bank ATM vestibules to survive the brutal winter. When he came to our church, he clearly did not fit the mold of a typical youth group member, but we welcomed him, ministered to him, and shared the gospel with him. While we must maintain a robust, correct theology, we must never become an exclusive social club that loses its heart for the lost.

Jesus illustrates the effort required to reach the lost through His parables. He describes a shepherd who leaves his ninety-nine sheep in the open country to go after the one that is missing, not knowing how far he will have to travel. He also describes a woman who loses a single coin in her home, lighting a lamp and diligently sweeping the house until she finds it. Both stories emphasize the immense effort and distance we must be willing to cover to seek out lost souls.

Today, that distance is rarely physical. With the world coming to our cities, the distance we must bridge is often one of worldview and culture. Sharing the gospel effectively requires us to understand how different people perceive sin and salvation. In a guilt-based society, like the classical West, sin is breaking a moral law, and Jesus pays our legal debt. In an honor-based culture, which represents much of the world, sin is public shame and broken relationship, and Jesus takes our shame to restore us to honor. In a fear-based society, sin is enslavement to dark forces, and Jesus conquers the powers of darkness to set us free. The gospel never changes, but we must put in the hard work of contextualizing it so people can truly understand their need for grace.

When the shepherd finds his sheep and the woman finds her coin, they immediately call their friends and neighbors to rejoice. Jesus tells us that, in the exact same way, there is immense joy before the angels of God over one single sinner who repents. To the world, one sheep or one coin might not seem incredibly valuable, but to God, every lost soul is a profound treasure. As believers, we must dedicate our lives and our churches to seeking out that treasure, putting in the diligent effort to bridge the gap and share the restorative love of Christ with everyone around us.

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Trusting the God Who Finishes What He Starts

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 13:18-35. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on February 8, 2026.

In our last look at the Gospel of Luke, Jesus healed a woman on the Sabbath. This sparked a confrontation with the local synagogue ruler, setting the stage for a broader conflict with the Pharisees. As Jesus gained prominence, the Jewish leaders grew increasingly concerned. This explains one of the major themes in Luke: why the gospel eventually turned toward the Gentiles and how the Jewish leaders came to reject Jesus.

Jesus begins addressing this by asking, “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? It is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his garden, and it grew and became a tree…” He then compares it to a tiny bit of leaven that a woman hides in flour until the whole batch is leavened (Luke 13:18-21, ESV).

These parables teach that God’s kingdom starts small but grows into something massive. Look at human history: the British Empire was once the largest to ever exist, yet today it is a shadow of its former self. That is the limit of a human-made kingdom. Christianity, conversely, started with a carpenter and twelve fishermen in a backwoods town. Today, it is a global phenomenon—a miracle only God could accomplish.

There is a second message here regarding how long this growth takes. The early Jews expected a sudden, dramatic military redemption, hoping for a leader to free them from the Roman Empire. Because Jesus didn’t fit that mold, they missed His signs. They were stuck in their own mindset of how God was supposed to work.

It is easy to fall into that same trap. Many of you might be waiting on God right now—for healing, for work, or for restored relationships. We must not get bogged down by our own expectations. As Psalm 27:14 (ESV) reminds us, “Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!” God is sovereign. He might not answer on your timeline, but He will provide what is for your good.

Those who wait and trust in the Lord will enter what Jesus calls the “narrow door.” When asked if only a few will be saved, Jesus said, “Strive to enter through the narrow door. For many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able” (Luke 13:24, ESV). The Jewish people largely believed everyone born a Jew would be saved automatically. But Jesus gives a brutal teaching: admission to God’s kingdom is exclusive, not based on heritage.

He warns that many will claim to know Him, but He will reply, “I do not know where you come from. Depart from me.” They will see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom while they are cast out. Yet, their exclusion means our inclusion. God promised Abraham that in him all families of the earth would be blessed. People from the east, west, north, and south will recline at the table.

Despite this rejection, Jesus still had incredible compassion for His people. When warned that Herod wanted to kill Him, Jesus refused to back down. Instead, He mourned for the city rejecting Him: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Luke 13:34, ESV).

God’s patience is incredible, giving us chance after chance. But we cannot mistake His patience for universalism—the belief that everyone will eventually be saved. There comes a point where a choice must be made. You are not saved just because you go to church. What saves you is faith in Jesus Christ alone. As Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6, ESV).

If you don’t know Christ, I pray you come to know Him today. For those who do trust Him, remember Philippians 1:6 (ESV): “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Trust in Him, for He is always worthy of our faith.

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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.

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Being Godly Neighbours

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 10:25-37. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on February 23, 2025.

The parable of the Good Samaritan is often used to teach us about loving our neighbor—showing kindness, grace, and mercy. And sure, that lesson is definitely in there. But that’s not really the main point Jesus was making. The real message becomes clear when we look at the context. That’s why we can’t just read a few verses on their own. We need to see what’s happening around them to fully understand God’s word.

So, why did Jesus tell this parable in the first place? Let’s rewind a bit and check out Luke 10:25–27. A lawyer stands up and asks Jesus, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” This wasn’t just a casual question. Luke tells us the lawyer was testing Jesus. That makes a big difference. And by “lawyer,” we’re not talking about courtroom drama and legal battles. In that time, a lawyer was someone who was an expert in Jewish law—religious, civil, ceremonial—all of it.

These lawyers were like scholars, pastors, and politicians all rolled into one. They knew the law inside and out. And they often belonged to groups like the Pharisees or Sadducees, which were kind of like political parties with different interpretations of the law. Pharisees focused on purity and religious practices like synagogue gatherings and personal devotion, while the Sadducees were more temple-focused and politically connected, even working with the Romans.

Here’s something important to notice. The lawyer asks Jesus about eternal life—something the Sadducees didn’t even believe in. So we can reasonably assume this guy was a Pharisee. And Pharisees were very concerned with salvation. They studied the scriptures because they believed that’s where eternal life was found. But as Jesus pointed out in John 5:39–40, they missed the whole point of scripture—it’s meant to lead us to Him.

So here’s this Pharisee testing Jesus, probably trying to see how much He really knows. But Jesus, in typical Jesus fashion, flips the question back on him. “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And the lawyer answers with Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18: love God with everything you’ve got, and love your neighbor as yourself.

That was actually a pretty common understanding of the law back then. Jesus Himself used the same two verses when asked what the greatest commandment was. And it makes sense—if you love God and love your neighbor, everything else falls into place. Jesus even says in Matthew 22:40, “On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.” So when the lawyer gives that answer, Jesus says, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”

But this is where things start to unravel. Because really, who can love God perfectly? R.C. Sproul put it this way—no one has kept that commandment for five minutes, let alone a lifetime. If you truly loved God with your entire heart, soul, strength, and mind, you wouldn’t sin. But as Romans 3:23 says, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

So the lawyer is probably realizing something in that moment. He might have looked righteous on the outside, like many Pharisees did, but inside, he knew he couldn’t live up to this standard. The Pharisees were known for adding oral traditions to the law, creating fences to keep people from getting too close to sinning. But these fences sometimes ended up contradicting the law itself. They created a fake appearance of righteousness without the substance.

Jesus called them out for that in Matthew 23:27–28, saying they were like whitewashed tombs—beautiful on the outside, but full of death inside. Maybe this lawyer saw himself in that. Maybe Jesus’ response exposed something in him. And instead of admitting it, he tries to justify himself. Luke 10:29 says, “But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’”

He’s trying to narrow the commandment. He wants Jesus to give him a manageable list of people he’s responsible for loving. But Jesus wasn’t going to let him off that easy. Instead, He tells the story of the Good Samaritan.

A man is beaten and left for dead. A priest walks by. A Levite walks by. These are the guys who should have helped. They were the religious leaders, the people with authority and responsibility. But they pass by on the other side. And then comes the twist—Jesus introduces a Samaritan.

To Jesus’ audience, this would have been shocking. Samaritans were despised. They were seen as unclean, racially mixed traitors who had their own distorted version of Judaism. The animosity between Jews and Samaritans ran deep, going all the way back to the Assyrian exile. For centuries, they avoided each other. So the idea that a Samaritan would be the hero of the story would’ve been unthinkable.

But that’s exactly what Jesus does. The Samaritan sees the beaten man and is moved with compassion. He goes out of his way to care for him—binding his wounds, taking him to an inn, and covering all the expenses. That’s not just kindness. That’s sacrificial love. That’s grace and mercy in action.

And with this story, Jesus redefines what it means to be a neighbor. The question isn’t “Who is my neighbor?” The better question is “Am I being a neighbor?” The answer Jesus gave exposed the lawyer’s attempt to limit God’s command. And it leaves us with the same challenge—if the one you hate the most is the one God calls you to love, what are you going to do?