Sermons

CHRIST COLLIDES

WITH OUR BLINDERS

Luke 18:31-19:10
Pastor Calvary deJong

April 6^th, 2025

Introduction: Climbing Trees

On March 31st — the last legal day to prune elm trees in Saskatchewan — I found myself 20 feet up a ladder with a chainsaw, overlooking my wife’s raised garden boxes. She loves to garden, but the shade from a neighbor’s overgrown elm had been blocking sunlight for years. A couple of years ago, we dealt with the roots by laying landscape fabric and gravel and building up fresh soil in raised beds. But we still hadn’t dealt with the shade. So, there I was — ready to trim a few limbs — until I realized they’d fall directly onto the power line. My options weren’t great: risk electrocution, break the law by pruning late, or disappoint my wife until August. So, I called Saskatoon Light and Power to request a line drop. To my surprise, a crew showed up 15 minutes later. One technician looked at me and said, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I said, “Yes, sir” — which was only mostly true.

With the line down and the branches cleared, I stood in the tree and looked out across the neighbourhood. And it reminded me of another man who climbed a tree — not for sunlight, but to catch a glimpse of a Savior. Zacchaeus wasn’t physically blind, but he still couldn’t see clearly — not until Jesus showed up. And sometimes, we need Christ to collide with our blinders so we can see what matters most. Luke 18:31–19:10 tells a continuous story in three scenes. Each involves someone who cannot see clearly, and each moves us closer to the heart of the gospel: that Jesus came to seek and to save the lost.

Act 1: The Disciples and Their Blindness (Luke 18:31–34)

Jesus, nearing Jerusalem, tells His disciples what’s about to happen: “Everything that is written about the Son of Man will be fulfilled.” He predicts His betrayal, suffering, death, and resurrection. This is a direct reference to Daniel 7:13–14, where the Son of Man is given divine authority and a kingdom that will never end. Jesus is saying plainly: “I am that King — but my crown will come through the cross.” And yet the disciples are confused. Luke writes, “Its meaning was hidden from them.” Despite walking with Jesus, hearing His teaching, and witnessing His miracles, they don’t see what’s coming. They’re not physically blind — but spiritually, they’re in the dark. Their assumptions about power and glory prevent them from seeing the suffering path Jesus must take.

Act 2: The Blind Beggar Who Sees (Luke 18:35–43)

As Jesus enters Jericho, a blind man hears the commotion and asks what’s going on. When he learns that Jesus is passing by, he cries out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” That title — Son of David — is a loaded phrase. It comes from promises in 2 Samuel 7:12–16 and Isaiah 11:1–10 about a coming King from David’s line who would rule with righteousness. This man may be blind, but he sees Jesus more clearly than the disciples do. The crowd tells him to be quiet — but he cries out louder. Jesus stops and asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” He replies, “Lord, I want to see.” Jesus says, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.” This man doesn’t just regain physical vision — he becomes a disciple. Luke says he follows Jesus, glorifying God. In contrast to the disciples’ blindness, this beggar shows what true sight looks like: faith that sees Jesus for who He really is.

Act 3: The Tax Collector Who Climbs (Luke 19:1–10)

Next, we meet Zacchaeus — a wealthy chief tax collector. He’s not physically blind, and he’s not marginalized in the same way the beggar is. But he’s spiritually stuck. He’s traded dignity for wealth, working with the Roman occupiers to collect taxes — often overcharging his own people for profit. Still, he wants to see Jesus. Short in stature and blocked by the crowd, he climbs a sycamore tree — an act both desperate and undignified. Jesus stops, looks up, and says, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” It echoes the murmuring from Luke 15:2: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” But Zacchaeus is transformed. He stands and says, “Lord, I give half my possessions to the poor, and if I’ve cheated anyone, I’ll pay back four times the amount.” That’s far beyond the restitution laws in Leviticus 6 and Numbers 5, which only required repayment plus 20%. He isn’t earning salvation — he’s responding to it. Jesus declares, “Today salvation has come to this house… For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

Come On Down — Jesus is Coming Over

Let me ask: Do you want to see Jesus? Not just know about Him. Not just agree with Christian ideas. But to encounter Him — to have your eyes opened and your heart awakened? That’s what happened on the Jericho road. A blind man cried out. A tax collector climbed a tree. Both were desperate. Both were seen. And both were changed. Maybe you feel like the blind man — stuck, ignored, unsure if you matter. Or maybe you’re more like Zacchaeus — successful but spiritually adrift. Either way, Jesus still stops. He still looks up. And He still calls people by name. Before Zacchaeus repented or paid anyone back, Jesus said, “I must stay at your house today.” Grace didn’t wait for him to clean up — it moved first.

What’s Blocking Your Vision?

What’s keeping you from seeing clearly? Is it pride? Pain? Fear? Shame? Maybe just distraction? Like the disciples, have you grown familiar with Jesus but lost your wonder? Has your faith become routine? The invitation still stands. Jesus is passing by. And He’s calling your name.

We Are a Church Where Weakness Becomes Witness

This message isn’t just for individuals — it’s for our church collectively. If the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost, that shapes our calling too. Let’s be a church community where:

• It’s safe to cry out, like the blind man.
• Outsiders like Zacchaeus are welcomed with joy, not suspicion.
• Weakness isn’t something to hide — it’s something Jesus redeems.

Because the story doesn’t end when you meet Jesus. That’s where it begins.

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus, You still stop for the forgotten, and You still call the searching by name. You see past our blinders — and You draw near with compassion and grace. Help us climb whatever tree we need to climb, to cry whatever prayer we need to pray, and to follow wherever You lead. Let our weakness become a witness, our homes a place of welcome, and our lives a testimony to Your redeeming love.

Amen.

CHRIST COLLIDES:

WITH OUR PRIORITIES

Luke 15:1-32
Pastor Calvary deJong

March 23^rd, 2025

Introduction: Sorting People and Missing Grace

After my first year of Bible college, I worked construction in downtown Winnipeg—on what’s now the Canada Life Centre—where the Winnipeg Jets play. From the job site, I’d watch the sidewalk: professionals in suits, tradespeople grabbing coffee, and those living rough—pushing carts, walking alone. They shared the same space, but not the same world. Invisible lines marked who belonged and who didn’t. If we are honest, we do this too—sorting people without even realizing it. It’s this exact dynamic that Jesus addresses in Luke 15. Religious leaders were scandalized—not by Jesus’ teachings—but by His table company. “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them,” they muttered (v.2). So, Jesus tells three stories—not to shame, but to reveal. Because sometimes, the real obstacle to grace isn’t someone else’s sin—it’s our own sense of who deserves to be included.

The Sheep & The Search: Grace Goes Looking

Jesus starts with two short parables. In one story, a shepherd has one hundred sheep—one goes missing. He leaves the ninety-nine to search. When he finds it, he celebrates. In the next story, a woman has ten silver coins, each worth a day’s wage—one is lost. She turns her house upside down until she finds it. And again—celebration. In both parables, the object of value doesn’t find its way home—the shepherd and the woman do the searching. These aren’t just heartwarming tales—they reveal how God views the lost, not with frustration but with joy. God doesn't shrug at what's missing—He goes after it, and He throws a party when it's found.

The Parable of Two Lost Sons: And the Father Who Sought Them Both

Unlike the first two stories, Jesus’ third parable breaks the pattern. Something is lost—but no one goes looking. This is intentional. Because now, the story gets personal. Jesus wants His listeners—especially the Pharisees—to see themselves.

1. The Younger Son: From Rebellion to Return

In the third parable, a man has two sons and his younger son asks for his inheritance early—a deeply offensive request. It’s a declaration: “I want your stuff, not you.” The father gives in, liquidating a third of his estate. The son leaves, spends everything on “wild living,” and ends up feeding pigs—a detail that would have made Jesus’ Jewish audience cringe. Then comes the turning point in the story: “He came to his senses.” Broken, hungry, and ashamed—the younger son decides to return home, not expecting restoration but hoping for survival. Yet, “While he was still a long way off,” his father sees him and runs to him—an undignified act in that culture. But grace doesn't wait for explanations. Grace runs. The father’s robe, ring, and sandals are more than gestures—they’re declarations of identity, authority, and belonging. And the party he throws upon his son’s return? It’s heaven’s way of saying: “You’re home.”

2.     The Elder Brother: Resentful Rule-Keeping

But there’s another son—the elder one who never left. When he hears the music, he’s furious. “All these years I’ve been slaving for you… but you never threw a party for me.” His words betray his heart—he sees himself more as a servant than a son. His bitterness shows that proximity doesn’t equal intimacy. While his brother ran away physically, the elder brother stayed and grew distant emotionally. His moral record became his justification. But he’s just as lost—just as alienated from the father’s joy.

This is the danger of religious pride. Timothy Keller writes in his book The Prodigal God, that there is more than one way to reject God: one is by being very bad, and the other is by being very good and thinking that your goodness obligates God. This is what Keller calls “lostness in morality.” One son broke the rules. The other kept the rules to maintain control. Yet both are in a sense equally distant from the father's heart.

3.     The “Prodigal” Father: Extravagant Love for Both Sons

Both sons dishonour the father—one through rebellion, the other through resentment. But the father moves toward both. He runs to the younger, and he pleads with the elder. He is the one character consistent in love, generosity, and grace. In the end, this is the father’s story. He is the one who suffers loss, gives freely, and risks rejection again and again. His love is extravagant—what Timothy Keller calls prodigal. He invites both sons to come home—not just into his house, but to his heart.

Conclusion: Where Are You in the Story?

Do you identify with the younger son? Regret, shame, and wondering if it’s too late? God the Father sees you. He’s not waiting with crossed arms—He’s already running.

Do you relate to the elder brother? You’ve done the “right things,” but feel unseen or bitter when grace is given to others? The Father is inviting you too—not just to obey, but into His joy and to celebrate. Jesus is the true elder brother—who didn’t sulk outside but left the Father’s side, paid the cost, and brought us home. As Keller writes: “You are more sinful than you ever dared believe—and more loved than you ever dared hope.” The gospel is not a reward for effort. It’s an invitation to come home.

A Vision for the Future of Our Church: A Heart for the Lost

Let’s be a church that leaves the porch light on for prodigals, and throws a party when they come home. Let’s plead with elder brothers and sisters to come inside. Let’s reflect the Father’s heart to everyone—regardless of where they’ve been or how long they’ve stayed. And if you’re a good Mennonite who doesn’t dance? Well, maybe it’s time the joy of Jesus leads us to start dancing on the inside!

CHRIST COLLIDES WITH OUR CONDEMNATION

Have you ever read a story, and realized you weren’t entirely sure of its point? Some Bible stories are so familiar that they’ve worked their way into everyday language. When an underdog faces a powerhouse team, it’s called a David vs. Goliath matchup. Last week, we heard about the Good Samaritan, a parable that practically preaches itself—a call to love our neighbour, even when it’s inconvenient. But this passage? It’s less well-known, yet no less significant. Jesus is asked to comment on two breaking news stories—a government-sanctioned massacre and a workplace accident. People debated these events, asking, ‘Why did this happen?” But instead of reaffirming their assumptions, Jesus tells a parable about a fruitless fig tree—and just leaves it there. No explanation. No tidy conclusion. That’s striking because Jesus often explained His parables. With the Parable of the Sower, He sat His disciples down and explained what the different soils represented. But here? Nothing. It's just a story about a fig tree running out of time. Maybe that’s why this passage feels unsettling. We gravitate toward stories with clear heroes and villains, easy application, and satisfying endings. Instead of answering speculation, He turns the question back on them: "Are you ready to stand before your Maker?" And that’s the question before us today: What happens when Christ collides with our condemnation? What happens when Christ collides with our assumptions about life?

Breaking Down Luke 13:1-5 – Christ Collides with Our Condemnation

• The Galileans Slaughtered by Pilate (Luke 13:1)

Luke 13 opens with a reference to a horrific event: “Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices.” This specific event—the massacre of Galileans in the Temple—isn’t recorded in any historical sources outside the Bible. However, the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus (c. 37–100 AD) repeatedly describes Pilate as a ruthless governor who had no problem spilling Jewish blood when it suited his agenda. As a historian writing for a Roman audience, Josephus offers valuable insight into the turbulent relationship between Rome and the Jewish people. His work Antiquities of the Jews (c. 93 AD) confirms that Pilate often used violence to suppress dissent. We know of at least three major incidents where Pilate brutally clashed with the Jewish people:

18. A) The Standards Controversy: Pilate brought Roman military standards with the emperor’s image into Jerusalem. Jews protested, and Pilate threatened them with death. When they refused to back down, he relented (Antiquities 18.3.1).
19. B) The Temple Treasury & The Aqueduct: Pilate took money from the Temple treasury to build an aqueduct. When people protested, he had soldiers blend into the crowd in disguise, and then violently attack them, killing many (Antiquities 18.3.2).
20. C) The Samaritan Massacre: A group of Samaritans gathered on Mount Gerizim, believing they would find sacred artifacts left by Moses. Gearing rebellion Pilate sent in troops and slaughtered them. The Roman governor of Syria was so disturbed by this that Pilate was recalled to Rome and removed from his position (Antiquities 18.4.1).

In other words, Pilate had a history of violently suppressing Jewish people, so it is entirely plausible that he had Galilean pilgrims killed in the Temple itself. And that’s where things get even more interesting—because Jesus Himself was a Galilean. It wasn’t just anyone who was slaughtered. This wasn’t some abstract theological discussion for Jesus. These were His people. Several of Jesus' closest disciples were Galileans. This is why, during Jesus' trial, Peter is recognized as one of His followers: “Certainly this man was with Him, for he too is a Galilean” (Luke 22:59). So, when Jesus hears this report, you might expect Him to condemn Pilate or call for political action. Instead, He does something shocking—He turns the conversation around.

Jesus’ Rhetorical Strategy in Luke 13:2-3

“Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.” Jesus asks, ‘Were these Galileans worse sinners?’ The assumed answer was yes—people linked suffering to divine punishment. But Jesus rejects this thinking. But Jesus flips the script: “I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.” Instead of blaming Pilate, Jesus challenges His audience to examine their own hearts.

• The Tower of Siloam – A Seemingly Random Disaster (Luke 13:4-5)

Jesus points to another tragedy: 'What about the eighteen crushed by the Tower of Siloam? Were they more guilty than others in Jerusalem?' Unlike the Galilean massacre, this was a random accident.

Underlying Theological Assumption: Do Only People Suffer Because of Sin?

Jesus is not just addressing two tragic events—He is confronting the deeply held cultural belief of the day that suffering is always the result of sin. Two key distinctions:

1. A) Some suffering is a direct consequence of sin or folly: Break trust, and you might lose relationships. As a kid, if I went to work with my dad, I earned spending money, but if I skipped or slept in, I was broke.
2. B) Some suffering is seemingly unexplainable: A natural disaster, a sudden illness, a tragic accident—these are not the result of personal sin.

Jesus here rejects simplistic theology that says, “bad things only happen to bad people” or “good things always happen to good people.” The reality is that life is unpredictable, and tragedy can touch anyone. And Jesus says, the real question isn’t “Why did tragedy happen?” but “Are you ready if your tragedy touches your life?” In verse 5, Jesus repeats the same statement He made in verse 3: “But unless you repent, you too will all perish.” Repetition in Jewish teaching is a way to emphasize what truly matters. Instead of discussing who deserved what, Jesus calls for repentance. Instead of feeding speculation, He urges preparation. Instead of answering why suffering happens, Jesus asks: what are you doing with the time you have? Jesus isn’t just responding to historical events—He’s confronting the way we think about life, God and suffering. Life is unpredictable, but grace is available.

The Parable of the Fig Tree: An Illumination of the Issue

Jesus often used parables to illustrate deep spiritual truths, wrapping them in imagery that was both familiar and thought-provoking. Jesus doesn’t explain the Parable of the Fig Tree, and that means we must carefully reflect on its meaning. Throughout church history, one of the primary ways Christians have understood parables without explicit explanations is through the allegorical method—a practice used by the Church Fathers to uncover spiritual meaning in the text. Last week, when we looked at the Good Samaritan, we saw how early Christian interpreters understood it allegorically:

• The wounded man represents humanity—broken and left for dead by sin.
• The Good Samaritan is Jesus—the outsider who rescues and restores us.
• The inn represents the Church—the place where the wounded find healing.

So what happens when we apply this same approach to the Parable of the Fig Tree? “Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, “For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?” “Sir,” the man replied, “leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.”

At first glance, it’s an agricultural story, but in context, it’s Jesus’ response to the tragedies. If we use an allegorical lens, here’s what emerges:

• The fig tree represents God’s people—who hear Jesus’ message.
• The owner of the vineyard represents God, who expects fruitfulness.
• The gardener interceding for the tree represents Jesus, who pleads for time.
• The one-year extension represents God’s patience but coming judgment.

This parable is not just about agriculture—it’s about grace. Just as the Galileans didn’t know their time was up and the eighteen people crushed by the tower had no warning, so too does this fig tree not realize how close it is to being cut down. But here’s the key difference: The fig tree is given another chance. This is where Jesus wants His audience to examine their fruitfulness. And that leads us to ask: What about us?

The Message for Us: Personal and Corporate Reflection

As we move from Jesus’ world to our own, we need to ask: What does this parable mean for us today? Individually, this parable is an invitation. If you’ve been waiting to take your spiritual life seriously, the time is now. If you’ve been assuming you have lots of time to decide. The Vinedresser is pleading: the call to repentance isn’t about fear—it’s about embracing the life God has for us today. Corporately, this parable challenges us as a church to consider our fruitfulness. We are a small congregation, part of a historic Anabaptist tradition, and many people here have been faithful for many years. But Jesus’ question still stands: Are we still bearing fruit? Are we a fig tree that looks healthy but is barren? Not measured by activity, but by embodying the values of God’s kingdom—extending hospitality, loving our neighbours, deepening in faith? Do we need some TLC from Christ the Vinedresser or perhaps a little fertilizer to help us recover our fruitfulness?

Jesus’ Lament and the Call to the Table

Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem in Luke 13:34-35 is not just the cry of another rejected prophet—it is the sorrow of the Messiah over a city that was running out of time: "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing!"(Luke 13:34).

Throughout Israel’s history, prophet after prophet had been sent to call God’s people back, yet time and time again, they were ignored, resisted, or even killed. Jesus was not just a prophet—He was the Christ. The city that rejected Him was where He would lay down His life as the Lamb who takes away sin. Yet, His warning was not empty. Within a generation, in AD 70, Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans under Emperor Titus. The city that had refused to be gathered under His wings was left desolate. What Jesus spoke was not only a spiritual warning—it was a prophecy of judgment that came to pass. But even in judgment, there was still an invitation. The table was still set. The invitation still stands. When we come to the Lord’s Table, we remember that Jesus is not just the gardener pleading for more time—He is the vine, the bread of life, the Lamb who was slain, the only one who can make us fruitful. Communion is not just a ritual; it is the place where we stop delaying, stop making excuses, and come to Jesus as we are. It is where we remember that the call to repent is not about fear—it is about embracing the “yes” God has for us.

So, as we come to the table, let’s reflect:

• Where is Jesus calling you to abide in Him and bear fruit?
• Where do you need to surrender to His grace and be gathered under His wings?
• Will you come to Him today—not just in word, but with your whole heart?

We are given Jesus Himself. What will you do with Him?