Luke 17:1-10 · Sin, Faith, Duty
Nobody Owes You Anything
Luke 17:1-10
Sermon
by Richard Patt
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This is the kind of sermon topic that the preacher hesitates to advertise ahead of time. If people come to church to hear some good news, this topic doesn't sound too promising. But I ask you to brace yourself and stick with it. The words we consider here are from the lips of none other than a merciful and loving Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. His words often contained some hard truths, but they also finally reveal to us the marvelous, incredible goodness and love of God to you and me. So let's dare to tackle the topic, despite its unpromising sound -- "Nobody Owes You Anything."

In a way, we know this is true. You and I ought to be grateful for everything we have; we ought to consider the whole sweep of our life as a gift that is given to us from the hand of providence. We owe our lives to God!

This is partly what the parable before us says. On the surface that's exactly what it seems to mean. Jesus portrays for us here a typical rural laborer of his day, perhaps a farmer coming in from plowing the fields all day, or a ranch hand who has been tending the sheep out on the range. In any case, Jesus calls this worker a servant, evidently one who was not part of the owner's family, and therefore one whom the owner had hired out of a gracious heart.

Now comes Jesus' key question. "Imagine you are that owner of the farm; when this hired servant of yours finishes his day and comes toward the farm yard, are you going to immediately invite him in to sit down at the table and eat?" The answer, Jesus would assume, is "no." He suggests that first of all you as the owner would sit down at the supper table and tell your worker to prepare a meal and serve it to you. Afterwards, even though it was a delicious meal, you would feel under no compulsion to gush over your servant and tell him what a good job he did. You can just get up and go to bed and let the servant eat the leftovers and then clean up. In fact, when you do leave the room, the hired hand ought to thank you for the privilege of serving you!

I think you would agree that the sermon topic succinctly expresses what Jesus wanted to say on the surface of this parable: nobody owes you anything. The world we live in is God's creation. In God's wisdom God has allowed us as God's creatures to inhabit the good world and enjoy its bounties. God has even given us as human beings an undeserved role of leadership in the world, it seems. But we are all stewards, so that if somehow we are getting along and making a living we ought to feel grateful and satisfied. If we are successful in the enterprise of life, we need to remember that we would be nothing without the nurturing that came from parents, from other relatives, from teachers and kind friends. Indeed, most of us only "get by with a little help from our friends." The whole universe, and our role in it, is a fantastic divine mystery for which we can take absolutely no credit; so every day ought to be Thanksgiving Day -- a time to live in total gratitude to a host of forces outside ourselves. It's true: nobody owes you anything. In turn, you owe everything to God and others.

Beyond this obvious interpretation of the parable, perhaps Jesus also told it in a deeper sense -- a parable to confront us with the spiritual truth about our eternal salvation. Again, Jesus would be saying that nobody owes us eternal life. The flip side is surely that you and I cannot claim or accomplish one single thing that would be considered a credit toward our salvation. We can work in the field all day long, all week long, for a lifetime, and there would still be no reason why God should feel indebted to save us. The comforting side -- the gospel side -- of what Jesus was saying in this parable would then be that God nevertheless does save us, evidently purely out of grace and love on God's part, since there is nothing we are bringing for credit.

It is easy to see that Jesus probably wanted his hearers to appreciate that side of the message in this parable, too. He wanted those listening to be impressed by the total humility that the servant in the parable exhibited. People are unworthy even to stand before God, much less to claim something of him. If they have done something that might possibly be interpreted in a positive way, it should be realized that they only did what was their duty. No claims can be connected with anything they have accomplished.

The Pharisees and other religious leaders, of course, were mostly the target of this parable. There didn't seem to be an inch of humility in any of them. If there were any club dues to pay, they considered themselves paid up. Like the Pharisee in another parable that Jesus told, these Wunderkinder of the religious world wouldn't grovel like the publican and pray, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner." They took care of their sins by themselves; they had a clean slate. There was no other payment needed. Nothing to do now but stand before God and accept the keys to heaven which God owed them.

As you can see, this parable becomes a way of proclaiming the Gospel in reverse. The parable unflinchingly claims that there is nothing we can do to merit our eternal salvation. The reverse side turns out to be that God therefore does everything for our salvation. The Good News is that in Jesus Christ God has done exactly that. Nobody owes us anything, but God goes ahead and does everything for our salvation anyway. When Christ mounts the cross, he is taking on his shoulder the debt of sin owed by the whole world. As the pain of crucifixion envelops him, he is embracing each one of us in the blood that cleanses us from all sin. Standing alive on Easter morning, he is providing a place for us to stand before the heavenly Father when we die. Standing there with other sinners, we'll be able to join hands and sing, "Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to the cross I cling." God owes us nothing, but in that day Jesus will nevertheless say, "Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you ..." (Matthew 25:34).

But the final meaning of this parable lies even deeper than all of this. The deeper meaning comes to light when we go back to our theme sentence, "Nobody owes you anything." At the beginning of the sermon we said in effect that it would be presumptuous for anyone to deny that. Every rational person tends to assent to this truth. But then the final meaning of the parable -- and its most challenging side, perhaps -- pushes us not only to assent to such humility but also to live by that humility: to really practice the reality that nobody owes us anything! Put it this way: do we have the capacity to view one another in the same humble way that we now know we must view God? In other words, can you stand before all other persons and say, "I am an unworthy servant; I have only done what was my duty"?

What we do for God we should be willing to do for one another. God standing before us is our neighbor standing before us. Our neighbor standing before us is God standing before us. Jesus said all of this before, in another way, didn't he? " 'When did we see thee sick or in prison and visit thee?' And [God] will answer, '... as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.' " (Matthew 25:39, 40). You see, the opposite of "Nobody owes you anything" is "You owe everybody everything!" Let self-righteous sinners like you and me try that one on for size. It is tough, tough, tough, because you and I so totally think, "Me, me, me." The fact is that when we probe and probe some more, you and I detest this proclamation, "Nobody owes you anything." And be sure of it, we detest this truth in regard to God also. There must be something God owes us! No, there isn't. There must be somebody in life I owe nothing to. No, there is not. There is never any other human being whom we can self-righteously pass by and say, "I owe you nothing!" Every last person, finally, is my neighbor. And when we serve that neighbor and are finished serving, we ought to say, "I am an unworthy servant; I have only done what was my duty." That is not false modesty; that is having the mind of Christ. That is seeing Christ in our neighbor.

Imagine how such a view would bring a new dignity to all other persons. But imagine how it would bring a new dignity to you, too! Now you are through and through a woman of Christ, a man of Christ. Your motives are (for once) totally clean. Love bathes your outlook. Self means nothing. God means everything. This is dignity, integrity. This is the way of Jesus Christ!

The great theologian Paul Tillich used to say, "Accept the fact that you're accepted." And we might add, "When you do, you will accept all others too and serve them. And no one will owe you anything." And you won't mind that at all.

In that other more famous parable, the one about the prodigal son, you will recall how Jesus spoke about a similar situation. After the heartwarming reunion of the younger son and his father, the older son comes in from laboring in the fields. He was one of those who appeared obedient and upright; his motives appeared impeccable; his devotion to his father seemed genuine. But when he is pressed to live out the total humility Jesus had in mind here, he breaks down. He cannot do it. He scorns his prodigal brother, and begins complaining at the top of his voice to his father. He blurts out claims about the father owing his brother nothing but owing him everything. Suddenly his long years of faithfulness appear ugly; his loyalty seems to have grown flat. He turns out to be the ungrateful son, in contrast to his younger brother who learned the lesson of gratefulness the hard way.

Whether we learn it from outward shame or inner bitterness, all of us need to be open to this shining godly humility. Today, as you stand bowed before the cross of the Savior, you will have at your disposal the power to claim the greatest gift any of us need: a grateful heart! "

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, All Stirred Up, by Richard Patt