Luke 9:51-56 · Samaritan Opposition
The Set Face And The Turned Head
Luke 9:51-56, Luke 9:57-62
Sermon
by Larry Powell
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"I know you've been sworn in and I've read your complaint." So begins Judge Wapner as another case unfolds on the popular television series, "People's Court." Repeating the phrase before each case, the implication is that the litigants have already placed their hands on the Bible and sworn to tell nothing "but the truth." However, courtroom cases do not progress far until it becomes apparent that either the plaintiff or the defendent is lying. Immediately, the whole matter of swearing-in comes into question. What good did it really do if one, or both parties involved knew from the beginning that they would not hesitate to bend the facts around to fit their own purposes? Beneath the long look, it appears that the swearing-in has become nothing more than a formality to be hurdled in order to get on with the business at hand. Very much, I suppose, like some meetings we attend and someone asks someone else to "open with a prayer." The prayer signals the formal "opening" of the meeting and it has been my experience that the mood and content of such meetings are usually what they would have been whether the prayer was prayed or not. It does appear from time to time that God receives a tip of the hat and then we move on to deal with the business at hand.

Committing oneself to tell the truth, committing a meeting to the fulfillment of God's will, or committing one's behavior to the glory of God; all of these are noble and highly commendable. However, if all we are committed to is the formality of making the commitment, we are, as someone expressed it, "a bluster, a bluff, an empty show."

A good case could be made for the claim that our generation is the perfect example of what happens when commitments are neutralized or largely ignored. Can you think of another time in history when the "everyone for himself, grab-what-you-can-now, get out of my way" attitude has been more prevalent? We are dangerously close to the point of becoming a people committed to the unencumbered pursuit of whatever it is we are trying to pursue. More and more we are witnesses to behavior which reflects a disturbing point of view; "Don't ask permission; just use it, take it, do it!"

Not long ago, I was driving through a neighborhood on my way home and came to a stop behind two other cars at a stop sign. The car immediately in front of me was occupied by a middle-aged lady. The car in front of her was a red convertible occupied by two teenagers. Although there was no other traffic in sight, the convertible did not proceed. The occupants were leisurely adjusting the tape player, smoothing their hair, and carrying on a conversation as if they were on private property instead of a public street. After a while, the lady in the middle car, apparently thinking the youngsters were not aware that they could proceed, tapped the horn lightly. At that, the passenger in the convertible stood up in the front seat, turned around to stare hatefully at the woman, shouted obscenities and made numerous vulgar gestures. When the car finally did proceed, it did so at a slow, mocking speed with the driver turning around to punctuate the insult by adding additional gestures. I am relatively certain that the lady wished she had never touched the horn. As it happened, we all continued in the same direction and sure enough, found ourselves at another stop sign. The only difference this time was the lady received the same treatment without sounding the horn. Having made their point, the red convertible roared away with tires squealing and the tape player blasting. Mercifully, it screeched around a corner and disappeared. I was reminded of a bumper sticker I saw once which read, "If you don't like the way I drive, stay off the sidewalk." Except the attitude exhibited in this case seems to have been, "If you don't like the fact that you don't matter in my opinion, don't bother me about it."

The two people in the red convertible just happened to be teenagers and were by no means representative of all teens. We all know that adults can be equally obnoxious. This is not an observation about a particular age group, but about a specific attitude. The attitude which says, "Get out of my way!" The attitude which, if it is committed at all, is committed to the unencumbered pursuit of whatever is being pursued.

Let us look now at this whole matter of commitment and how it applies to a generation in which commitment itself has become neutralized. More importantly, we all want to prayerfully determine the nature of commitment as it pertains to the way of Christ.

We are told twice in the opening of our text that Jesus' face was "set toward Jerusalem." Jerusalem, Jerusalem alone, was his destination. He had business there. He was determined to arrive because he had a purpose larger than his own agenda. En route, an unnamed man approaches Jesus on a country road and declares a verbal commitment, "I will follow you wherever you go." From all appearances, a verbal commitment was all it was because the man is never mentioned again. Farther down the road, Jesus invites another man to follow him. The man responded by saying that he first had to go bury his father. As harsh as this may seem, he was committed to something else and would not commit to Christ despite Jesus' instruction to "Let the dead bury the dead." Soon afterwards, yet another man said to Jesus, "I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home." In other words, he "set his face" toward Christ but turned his head toward home. Jesus replied, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God." It is not that Jesus was impatient or did not have time to wait. It was simply a matter of if the man had reservations on the front end of commitment, what would happen when the going got really tough?

Our text, in its entirety, is about commitment and/or the lack of it. It is about Jesus "setting his face" and three men "turning their heads."

Three words come to mind as being descriptive of the kind of commitment to which the gospel invites us.

The first word is "total."

Following his baptism, our Lord was led by the Spirit to a desolate, solitary place where he encountered severe temptations. Be sure of this one thing; they were genuine temptations in every sense of the word, or else the Scriptures would have found a way around saying, "Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1)." The temptations were intense. He was tempted to: turn stones into bread (provide for his physical needs); throw himself from the pinnacle of the temple (resort to sensationalism); and bow down and worship Satan (compromise and conform). Anyone who suggests that Jesus' divinity precluded the possibility of any of these being real options, simply holds the Scriptures to be in error. Of a truth, our Lord was thrown into the crucible of determining his commitment. Inclinations and partial allegiances would have been convenient options, but they were not in our Lord's mind. When he emerged from the temptations, there were no reservations about what he was going to do. The program was clear and he was totally committed to it. The will of God was paramount and he was totally dedicated to it. The reconciliation of all creation was the objective and, although it would require the supreme sacrifice, he was totally committed to it. Please take notice that this is the kind of commitment to which the gospel invites us. Total commitment. Even as the ministry of Christ was not begun or fulfilled on the reluctant embrace of half-hearted resolve, neither can we embrace the way of Christ and surrender ourselves unto the will of God with anything less than unreserved commitment.

Nicodemus is a familiar Bible name to us because he has been so frequently referred to as a bad example. There is every possibility that the church through the centuries has been unkind to Nicodemus, but there is precious little in the gospel story to redeem him. It is told that he came to Jesus secretly by night, uttered a faint, timid remark in defense of Jesus, and assisted Joseph of Arimathea in preparing the body of Jesus for burial. He never declared openly as a follower of Christ and then when it was too late, he came around wanting to do a good work. The man bothers us because there is such about him that mirrors some of our own inclinations to be committed to being uncommitted.

It is told that a missionary preached in a remote, poverty ridden area in west Africa. He appealed for support of Christian work throughout the area and encouraged those present to give what they could toward the construction of a building which would serve as a medical clinic and a place of worship. Approximately two hours after the worship service, a young woman came to the missionary and presented him with $40 to be used for the building project. The missionary was stunned. Where on earth could that woman come up with such a large sum of money in a region afflicted by painfully forbidding circumstances? Confounded, he posed this question as politely as he knew how to the young woman. He was informed that after hearing the missionary preach about Jesus and being challenged to do something for Jesus, and having nothing to give, she had gone to a wealthy planter and sold herself into his service for the rest of her life. Let us be clear about what I have just told you. She had sold herself into the service of the landowner; she had given herself into the service of Jesus Christ. Not partially, but totally. That sounds like a radical price to pay doesn't it? However, if you think such a measure of commitment is radical, read again the words of our text and be impressed that the lifetime commitment is exactly what is called for. A lifetime of service. Call it anything you please, but do not call it less than it is; total commitment. Nicodemus could not handle it. The three unnamed men in our text could not deal with it. Can you and I deal with it?

The second word descriptive of the kind of commitment to which the gospel invites us is "tenacious."

Sam Jones once remarked that a woman can go into a store containing $1 million worth of inventory, buy a card of needles and leave without buying anything else. How? Because the only thing she had on her mind was a card of needles. One purpose, a solitary mission, or to use a scriptural phrase, "singleness of eye." That is half the matter. Add to that the persistent, relentless pursuit of the object and you have commitment sealed with tenacity. To use a very unscriptural untheological word, the kind of commitment we see demonstrated in the Scriptures brings to mind the word, "flypaper." Would you agree that flypaper tends to cling like a magnet to that with which it comes in contact? If you think flypaper is tenacious, let me read you something:

"Five times I have received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I have been beaten with rods; once I was stoned. Three times I have been shipwrecked; a night and a day I have been adrift at sea; on frequent journeys; in danger from rivers, dangers from robbers, dangers from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brethren; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And apart from other things, there is the daily pressure upon me of my anxiety for all the churches (2 Corinthians 11:24-28)."

Compared to Paul, flypaper is a lesser example of tenacity. However, compared to Paul, our own commitment might be described as "flyweight."

We are referring now to the commitment which gets on a trail and stays on it. It does not grow weary nor it is distracted. A statewide hunger rally was held on the campus of one of our colleges in the late '70s. Hundreds of sensitive, concerned, well-meaning church leaders filled the auditorium to listen to staggering statistics about the effects of world hunger and view frame after frame of a slide presentation showing under-nourished, skeletal-like figures covered with insects. The program was graphic, emotional, and presented quite effectively. Unfortunately, the presentation ran a little longer than expected and, about ten minutes past noon, the motion was made that we adjourn for lunch. People were hungry. Further proceedings of the hunger rally were scheduled around the noon meal rather than everyone foregoing the meal and contributing what we would have paid for the meal to world hunger. It is sad to tell, but we could not even get on the trail of the program, much less stay on the trail toward productive response. The only exhibition of tenacity related to a commitment in this instance was the stubborn insistence to maintain our own feeding schedule. The nature of true commitment was illustrated well enough, but the object was in contradiction to the lesson.

Who is that walking yonder in the shadows? It looks like - yes, it is Nicodemus. He discovers the trail, it mingles in his senses, it stirs him to want to go on. He is on the trail. No, now he is off. He crosses it again but he is not after the prize. He is only curious about the nature of the trail. He is not committed to the trail, much less him to whom the trail leads. The Scriptures depict him as showing up on the trail from time to time, but he cannot stay on it.

There is another figure. He is walking away from us, but it looks like - yes, it is Demas. We remember Demas. He was on the trail at Colossae but according to Paul's letter to Timothy, "Demas has deserted me in love with the present world (2 Timothy 4:10)." He lost the trail.

Have you lost the trail or are you clinging to it tenaciously? Is your commitment like "flypaper" or is it "fly-weight?"

The last word I want to suggest to you as being descriptive of the kind of commitment to which the gospel invites us is "translated."

Do you know what a midnight confession is? That is when you wake up late at night or in the wee hours of the morning and your mind is tormented by something and, whatever it is, you can't sleep. It is something you need to put right, or resolve, or do whatever it takes to eliminate the misery. In desperate cases (and in the quiet darkness surrounding you when you ought to be asleep, things have a way of being desperate) you pray, "Dear Lord, just help me to solve this thing and I will..." I do not know how you fill in that blank, but you do. Or, we wake up at night experiencing excruciating pain between our hip and waistline. "Oh God, I don't want to have a kidney stone tonight. If you will just deliver me from this situation and let it just be a muscle spasm, I will ..." (if you have ever had a kidney stone, you will pray this prayer).

What noble, far-reaching promises we made to God in midnight confessions. We rededicate our lives to Christ, increase our tithe, volunteer for church work, vow to be more civil to our spouse and children, and on and on. Then, comes daylight, and things are not nearly as desperate as we had supposed and our midnight confessions blend in with the morning mist and are chased away by the sun.

My friends, your commitment and my commitment are not worth the breath they are muttered with unless they can be translated into the light of day. A commitment that is as good in daylight as in darkness is the kind of commitment we are reaching for.

Nicodemus perhaps made a midnight resolve, "coming by night," but it could not stand up in the light of day. He was unable to translate his good intentions from the shadows into daylight devotion.

Is your commitment, regardless as to when it was assumed - day or night - translatable into service?

Yes, a good case could be made for the claim that our generation is the perfect example of what happens when commitments are neutralized. The Christian faith invites us not to internalize Christ and a commitment to him, totally, tenaciously and translating that which we have embraced into service.

C.S.S Publishing Co., BLOW THE SILVER TRUMPETS, by Larry Powell