Luke 12:22-34 · Do Not Worry
The Emperor’s Son-in-law
Luke 12:22-34, Luke 12:35-48
Sermon
by Carveth Mitchell
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This Gospel hinges on responsibility, and the culmination of it is in verse forty-eight: "Everyone to whom much is given, of him shall much be required."

One of the favorite stories of the great Danish philosopher, Soren Kierkegard, concerns an emperor, touring his domain and receiving the accolades of his people. When the entourage reached the market square of one village, his carriage was surrounded by cheering villagers and peasants. To the amazement of his neighbors, one brash young farmer stepped out of the crowd and approached the emperor’s carriage.

"Give me a boon, Sire," he pleaded. "Grant me a special blessing."

The villagers were even more amazed at the emperor’s reply: "Of course, my good man," he said. "Get into my carriage. Come with me. Live in my palace. Eat at my table. Marry my daughter. Be my son-in-law."

The young man exclaimed his delight. To be the emperor’s son-in-law! Then he thought about it. No more Saturday nights at the pub with his friends. No more dirty, comfortable peasant clothes. He’d have to get dressed up. He’d have to take a bath - maybe every week. He’d have to clean his fingernails. He’d have to learn the manners of the court.

He sadly shook his head and lowered his eyes. "No, Sire," he said. "I would be too uncomfortable. It would pull me out of my comfortable customs. It would be too hard to live up to. It would take too much of me."

"If you want to do something for me, give me a plot of ground, a farm, a house of my own; but to live in your palace, eat at your table, be your son-in-law - this is too much." So he declined it.

You see - he wanted the emperor’s blessing; but he wanted it on his own terms. He wanted to be blessed in doing what he wanted to do - not what the emperor wanted him to do. He wanted to be blessed right where he was, not moved out of his comfortable customs. He wanted the blessing, but not the responsibility that went with it.

Too often we are that peasant. The Bible says many wonderful things about us Christians. Paul says, "We are the children of God; if children, then heirs - heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ." (Romans 8:16-17) In 1 Peter 2:9 we are told, "You are a royal priesthood, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful works of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."

Peter goes on to remind us Christians in his second letter, "His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, that through these you may ... become partakers of the divine nature." (2 Peter

1:3-4)

Blessings, indeed! And as Christians we lay claim to them. Then in, through and under them is the story of the Steward. It ends with the demanding words of Jesus, words from which we shrink in our self-centered daily life: "To whom much is given, of him will much be required."

Peter says more about our blessings as the people of God: "For this very reason make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love." (2 Peter 1:5-7)

This business about being God’s children - heirs of God with Christ - sounds great. But to be expected to live up to it is sometimes more then we bargain for. To be God’s children - to be his royal priesthood - is to be those to whom much is given. But to be those from whom much is expected is something else again. Yet that’s what this business of being a Christian is all about - accepting the stewardship responsibility of being Christ’s redeemed people.

Too often we seek God’s blessing on our terms. We choose what we want to do, and ask God to bless it. But to ask what he wants us to do leads to all kinds of inconvenience. This is behind much false humility that most pastors hear from time to time: "I’m afraid." Translation: "Don’t expect much commitment out of me, brother, because you’re not going to get it."

Or this one: "I’m a Christian in my own small way, but I like to stay in the background." Translation: "I want to be known as a child of God, but I don’t want to do much to serve my Lord." When such people are asked to take some responsibility in the Lord’s work they answer, "Oh, I’m sure you can find someone who is much more capable than I am." Translation: "I want to be a child of God, but I don’t want any of the responsibility that goes with it. I’ll take the promises, but not the tasks."

Too often we, like the peasant, want to be one to whom much is given, but not one from whom much is expected. The problem is that this is not the cheap blessing God offers - which is why some people get discouraged with God, with prayer and with religion. God calls us to eat at his table, to be one of his family, to accept the responsibility of being his sons and daughters. God gives us his blessings through (that is, by means of) our commitment.

One day I met a stranger on a public tennis court and played some tennis with him. When we finished, I complimented him on his game. "Well," he said, "it’s not as good as it used to be. We’re visiting relatives here in your city. I’m just getting into my game again. We’ve just returned from three years in the mission field in Africa, and they didn’t have tennis courts there."

"Are you a minister?" I asked. "No."

A doctor?" "No." "A dentist?" "No."

Then what are you?" "I’m a carpenter."

What did you do there?"

I built an infirmary, a small hangar for the mission plane and a couple of small houses."

This was his story: "We’ve always gone to church and loved the Lord. I’ve always prayed ‘Lord, use me as you will - but after all, I’m only a humble carpenter.’ One night when I was at the church serving refreshments to the Men’s Brotherhood I got a phone call from our national headquarters. ‘John, we want you to take your wife and two children to the mission field in Africa for three years.’ My wife and I talked it over and prayed about it, and we decided it was either put up or shut up. So we went."

I was fascinated. I asked, "How did it work out?"

This was his reply: "They were the three happiest years our family has ever spent together."

God gives his blessings through our commitment to his will. God is abundant with his blessings, but high in his expectations. We want to be the children of God, but are we ready for the commitment of being his children? Do we really want God’s blessing of invitation: "Come, be in my family, eat at my table"? To whom much is given, from them shall much be required.

There’s nothing wrong with talking to God about better beans or bigger cabbages in whatever peasant gardens we happen to till. There’s nothing wrong with talking to God about a pay raise or a healthy body or a happy home life. But if that’s all we want, if that’s the only boon we seek - "Bless me in my rut, make it comfortable, and by all means make it profitable, but don’t push me out of it and ask me to do things that are inconvenient for me." - we had better read our Bibles again. God gives his blessings through our commitment to his will.

How did the carpenter put it? "Three of the happiest years our family has ever spent together." We ask for little blessings not in humility, but because we are afraid of the big ones God might offer if we seek his will. God offers the big one. Accept the responsibility of being members of his family and do what is needed. The little blessings cling to that along the way, like iron filings to a magnet.

A pastor came to his new congregation and preached his first sermon on commitment. He talked about tithing, about teaching Sunday church school, about witnessing for the Lord among neighbors and friends. The congregation complimented him on his sermon. "That’s fine, Pastor," they said. We needed to hear that."

The peasant said, "No, Sire," and declined it. The carpenter said it was either put up or shut up. What do we say? The third Sunday he preached the same sermon. Nobody said much going out the door, but the elders took him off in a corner and asked with as much patience as they could muster, "Pastor, don’t you have another one, maybe, that we could hear?"

"Another one?" he asked. "Why, you haven’t done anything about the first one yet. When you do, then we’ll talk about another one."

I don’t recommend doing that, but the pastor has a point.

God expects our tithe, be it great or small. When we are asked to help with the Lord’s work, he expects us to say "Yes." We are those to whom much is given. Christ has bought us and paid for us on the holy Cross. He has done for us what we could not do for ourselves nor for each other. He has loved us and redeemed us and opened the gates of God’s heart and home.

To whom much is given, of them shall much be required. Ours is the responsibility of being willing and faithful stewards in the Master’s household. We are the children of God. Ours is the commitment that comes with being members of his royal family.

The peasant said, "No, Sire," and declined it. The carpenter said it was either put up or shut up. What do we say?

CSS Publishing Company, The Sign in the Subway, by Carveth Mitchell