An Unworthy Servant, Part 2

As we discussed in last week’s post, none of us is worthy apart from Jesus. But sometimes we forget that, even in church:

“Oh, let’s make room for Michael, because he’s doing well at business these days. We could use the income from his gifts.”

“Come and take this special seat, Michael. We’re really glad you’re here.”

A Broken System

That’s how the broken church system works. That’s how the sinful human institution works. But that’s not the kingdom. And unfortunately, if we as a church create that kind of standard, where we give the worthier in the eyes of the world more accolades, we’re reinforcing a sinful system that supports the wrong things. It supports the sinful tendencies that exist within us, where the rich get richer, the smart stay smarter, the privileged have all the breaks, and we make room for them and honor them.

But that doesn’t look like Jesus. What looks like Jesus is all of us, standing under this magisterial authority, seeing who we really are and asking God to pour upon us the abundance of His mercy.

And when a fellowship begins to reflect that kind of mercy and that kind of grace, we learn how to enjoy one another’s company, even though we’re not perfect. There’s a level of ease about our relationships because there’s no interior checklist. We’ve become a part of a fellowship where all that awful ungodly, worldly stuff gets checked at the door, though it may still exist in our hearts. And we’re learning what it means to live in our relationships based on God’s mercy and not our qualifications.

Use What You’ve Got

There’s a story in Luke 17 where Jesus looks to His people, and they’re asking for increases in faith, and he says, “No, no, no; it’s not about getting more faith, it’s about using what you’ve got.” And then he tells them this little parable. I’ll share the Brewer paraphrased version:

“Which of you (and he’s talking about people who might have servants as a part of their household), if the servant has come in and worked all day, expects that servant to go and put his feet up?”

They respond, “No, he hasn’t finished his chores. The last thing he’s supposed to do is get dinner for the head of the household. And only then, after he’s gotten that meal, is he free to go sit down and eat his own food, and as it were, put his own feet up.”

And they’re all kind of nodding their heads—“Sure, sure, we understand that”—when Jesus says, “And do you actually thank the servant for doing that for you?”

In that culture especially, was thanks owed? No. And Jesus underscores that when he says, “And so you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are unworthy servants. We have only done what was our duty.’”

An Unworthy Servant

So what is expected of me? All I have to be is an unworthy servant. I don’t have to climb from height to height. What God asks of us is profound, important and small: To walk with him. To be his followers. And we trust him to do the rest, the inner work, the change, the things we long to see differently. You see, an unworthy servant is one who basically is just doing what’s asked of him.

Oh, but you say, “Gosh, sometimes the things God asks of me are really hard.”

And they are. And so what happens when we fail? Does that mean we’re no longer qualified? No. You see, if the bar is an unworthy servant, that means I can say, “God, I really messed up. Will you please forgive me?”

And because he understands who we are, he always says, “Of course.” It’s the line in our Collect: “Pour upon us the abundance of your mercy, for giving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask except through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ (Proper 22, The Book of Common Prayer, p. 182).”

You see, I’m the redeemed sinner. That’s who I am. It’s who I will always be.

The Redemption of Heaven

And finally, when I am taken up into glory by my heavenly Father at the moment I shed the body, a change will happen in me. That means when I stand before the very throne of God on the day of judgment, what will shine out of my resurrection body is the faultless nature of Jesus himself. And he will look at me, and he will not say, “What happened back in August of 2017?”

No. All that will be forgiven, it will be washed away, it will be gone. And all he will say to me is “Welcome to the kingdom prepared for you from before the foundation of the world.”

Believe me, if I didn’t know, deep in my heart that, as a believer in Jesus, his kingdom is my ultimate destination, I’m not sure what I would do about being a Christian. The whole promise of God says that what has been supernaturally birthed in you has a beginning point—God’s action—and it has an ending point—the redemption of heaven.

So even though I may be messing up at this very moment, it can be a new day. God can continue to work in me things I don’t deserve but desperately need. And that is the only way I can approach him as the unworthy servant I am.

And what I want to say to you is God’s OK with that, because he understands who we are. It’s never, you see, about “worth” and “deserving,” because God can always think of great reasons why those words don’t apply.

The more we understand how unworthy we are, the more we appreciate the ultimate worthiness found in Christ. Cling to that today.

How has your church experience included mercy—or judgment? Share this blog and your response on Twitter. Please include my username, @revgregbrewer.

(This post is an adaption of Bishop Brewer’s sermon on October 2, 2016, at Church of Our Savior in Palm Bay, Florida.)

Unless otherwise noted, scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.