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When the Light Exposes the Darkness
Good morning. I'm going to begin with an assumption—that the majority of us here today are fans of the Bible. We believe it and we love it. We love John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he sent his only son that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life." We love 1 John 1:9: "If we confess our sins, he's faithful and just to forgive us those sins and cleanse us of all unrighteousness."
But what about the harder passages? The ones that feel like a slap rather than a hug? As we've been studying the Gospel of Luke, we find Jesus in a section where he's saying hard things—correction, challenge, rebuke. Clearly, we prefer hugs. We would love a hug-only life. Yet we all recognize we need correction sometimes. Our Lord loves us enough to give us correction from time to time. Unfortunately, the way our passage breaks this morning, we're only going to get slaps. There are no hugs whatsoever. These are among Jesus' most spicy words in the Gospel of Luke.
Before we dive in, I want to pray for those beginning a new school year. The text we're studying shows us that influence carries tremendous responsibility. Our educators, administrators, and students have a real opportunity to exercise influence and be faithful representatives of Jesus Christ in the schools God has placed them. If you work in education or are attending school this fall, could I ask you to stand?
[After prayer for educators and students]
Let's turn to Luke chapter 11, verse 37. While Jesus was speaking, a Pharisee asked him to dine with him. So he went in and reclined at table.
Given what's about to happen, I feel empathy for this Pharisee. He has no idea. To his credit, Luke points out that while Jesus was speaking, the Pharisee invited him. There was something intriguing enough about what Jesus said that made the Pharisee want to have him for lunch. But clearly, he's not connecting the dots. There's no way he would have invited Jesus if he'd had any inkling of what Jesus was about to unleash on him and his friends.
By way of reminder, the Pharisees were a super serious religious group of lay people. In our context, we'd say they were more like deacons and commission leaders—committed, serious about their faith, lay people with responsibility.
What sets this fire off is quite subtle. Verse 38: "The Pharisee was astonished to see that he, Jesus, did not first wash before dinner." Now, moms, don't think Jesus was being gross. This wasn't washing to get clean. This was a ceremonial washing for purity's sake—for religious purposes that were not actually stipulated in the Old Testament. There was no command to do this before lunch. And on this day, Jesus didn't want to do it.
Luke doesn't record the Pharisee saying anything—just that he was astonished. I don't know if it was a demonstrative jaw drop or a subtle raised eyebrow. But his astonishment provided spark, and it's about to get real hot.
Here's the irony: the Pharisee is bothered by what he sees on the outside of Jesus—that Jesus didn't do this outside washing. And Jesus is about to tell him and his friends that their problem is precisely the opposite. You look good on the outside, but inside needs a lot of work.
Jesus begins with what they seek. Verse 39-41:
Now you Pharisees, cleanse the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness. You fools! Did not he who made the outside make the inside also? But give as alms those things that are within, and behold, everything is clean for you.
This is how lunch begins. The charge? You're more concerned with looking the part than being it. When I was growing up, we would have called them posers—all the gear, baggy shorts, the hat, but couldn't skateboard.
Consider a cupboard filled with perfectly organized, color-coded Tupperware. It could look amazing. But if someone opens any one of those containers and finds old, moldy crud inside, they're not impressed with your organization. It just really doesn't matter how good it looks if that's what's inside.
At minimum, Jesus is saying that genuine purity is not achieved by pouring a little bit of water on your hand. Real purity begins on the inside, and it is our insides that God is most concerned with.
The Pharisee made two mistakes. First, he judged Jesus according to what he thought mattered. But what's more insidious is that the vast majority of Pharisees had begun to believe that if they got the externals right, the external could somehow offset what was going on inside.
Are you currently walking the same path? On the outside, all looks well and good on a Sunday morning. But inside, something else is going on. A lot of us know when to stand, when to sit. We know the songs. We know some churchy language. You may even serve. Maybe you give. You're here. But inside—inside's a different story. Jesus wants inside.
Next comes a litany of woes. Biblically, a woe is a solemn declaration—a warning that someone is headed towards disaster. The charge here concerns what they do.
Verse 42:
Woe to you Pharisees, for you tithe mint, dill, and every herb, and neglect justice and the love of God. These you ought to have done without neglecting the others.
You're good at details, but you've lost the plot. They were incredibly fastidious about the smallest details of obedience, while at the same time overlooking things that mattered much more.
The law did require Israel to tithe off what they got from the land and herds. But here's what Jesus is getting at: You tithe a sprig of mint while, at the same time, you're using the legal system to take advantage of an impoverished poor person. I don't care about your little mint. Stop this.
I was on a flight once, and I was watching a show with headphones. But what caught my attention was a toddler a row and a half ahead bouncing in the aisle like she had an incredible vertical. I see the flight attendant booking behind her, just stepping over her, and she comes and stares at me. I take off my headphones and she says, "You need to put your tray table up."
Now listen. I'm all for getting your tray table up when the plane's about to land. But we also got to deal with that kid. She's going to bounce off the ceiling. Yes, the tray table matters, but that unbuckled kid should be a bigger deal.
Are you guilty of the same thing spiritually? Maybe you are down to the penny on your giving, but incredibly uncharitable with the words you use with others. Maybe you are meticulous in one area of obedience while neglecting something that matters more. Jesus wants some consistency. Tray tables matter, but the child more so.
The second woe concerns what they valued. Verse 43:
Woe to you Pharisees for you love the best seat in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplace.
They don't just appreciate recognition. They crave it. Maybe they even purposely wait outside the synagogue just so they get in at the last minute, so when they walk in someone in a better seat is like, "Oh, I am so sorry. Please. Thank you." They love walking at the Shops at Briargate and having someone run out of the AT&T store to say, "Oh, hello. It is so good to see you."
They loved the recognition given for their meticulous obedience—the best seats in the house, the elaborate greeting on the street. They loved to be the center of attention.
For us, this can be a little difficult to self-diagnose. There's nothing wrong with appreciating a word of encouragement. There's nothing wrong with appreciating a well-timed "attaboy" or "attagirl." There's nothing wrong with receiving encouragement or even affirmation for trying to live the Christian life well. But appreciating recognition and living for it are very different things.
Our culture does not really help. We literally have platforms designed to tell us how many people noticed us, how many people like us, how many people have followed us, how many people have approved of what we said. It is tough not to get sucked in. Are you falling for it?
Think about it: in the grand scheme of things, if you surveyed the entire Roman Empire, these Pharisees were very small fish. Jesus is the Lord of the universe. He rightly deserves all of our praise, yet he willingly humbled himself and became a servant. That's his example he wants us to follow. Jesus desires humility in us.
His final woe is the most scathing. Verse 44:
Woe to you, for you are like unmarked graves and people walk over them without knowing it.
You pride yourselves on being examples of righteousness when in truth you carry the stench of death. You think you're an example of righteousness, but if people follow you, you're leading them in a different direction.
The Old Testament had very strict laws concerning contact with the dead and with graves. An unmarked grave was a real concern because you could inadvertently, without knowing, walk over an unmarked grave and become ceremonially unclean. In their context, this is a huge problem.
In our context, it's like saying to a Christian friend at work, someone in your community group: "When I think of you, I really think about a wolf in sheep's clothing." It's fighting words.
The issue is that people were following these guys and thought they were being led well. Jesus is telling them: if you follow this lot, you're going the wrong way. What makes it tragic is that the lot doing the leading thought they were headed in the direction God wanted them to go.
How can I, 2,000 plus years later, be so sure they were going the wrong way? Because of what they were doing with Jesus. Ultimately, that's the test. People can know their Bible. People can appear righteous. They can even be respected as spiritual leaders. But if they get Jesus wrong, they're headed where you don't want to go.
To be saved, you need to confess Christ as Lord. You need to believe that God raised him from the dead. Jesus is not simply one piece of the puzzle. He's the entire thing. To get him wrong is to lose out on everything.
Appearances can be deceiving. Is there a chance that you're listening to or following someone that you should not?
Verse 45: "One of the lawyers answered him, 'Teacher, in saying these things, you insult us also.'"
On one hand, this is moderately admirable. I kind of like his moxie. On the other, dude's just poking the bear. Read the room, guy. Stay quiet.
The lawyers, or experts in the law, were the religious professionals. They interpreted the scriptures and taught them. If the Pharisees were loosely our deacons and commission leaders, the lawyers were more like our pastors and church staff. This one stands up in solidarity with the commission leaders: "Hey, Jesus, you're slamming them, you're slamming us also."
You can almost imagine Jesus slowly turning. Yes. I am. And he launches off.
Verse 46:
Woe to you lawyers also. For you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers.
You lead with an iron fist, but you live your own life with kid gloves. You put burdens and expectations on other people that you do not yourselves live up to.
Imagine you're heading to your campsite, hiking in with your family, all stoked. Then you see another family leaving their campsite, approaching you. Mom and dad look like they've had the best weekend of their entire life. They're skipping, they're stopping, they're taking photos. Then you get over the hill and on the other side, there's a seven-year-old daughter carrying all the gear. Your horror is interrupted by mom at the top of the hill: "Hurry up!"
That's what the lawyers and experts in the law were doing to people. Burdening them with all the laws, burdening them, but not lifting a finger.
There's a strong caution here for those of us who lead, for those of us who parent, for those of us who have any voice in anyone else's lives. I know we never want to appear soft on sin. And Jesus is clearly not being soft on sin in this passage. But generally speaking, I'd rather be accused of having too much grace than in the end find out that I was short of it.
Always remember: we follow one who never treats us as our sins deserve. We should keep that in mind when we are picking at the sins of others.
Verse 47-51:
Woe to you, for you build the tombs of the prophets whom your fathers killed. So you are witnesses and you consent to the deeds of your fathers, for they killed them and you build their tombs. Therefore also the wisdom of God said, 'I will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and persecute, so that the blood of all the prophets shed from the foundation of the world may be charged against this generation. From the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah, who perished between the altar and the sanctuary. Yes, I tell you, it will be required of this generation.'
You honor yesterday's prophets while resisting the ones who stand in front of you today. Their ancestors killed the prophets. Now they're building elaborate tombs to honor the ones their ancestors murdered. While at the same time, they're continuing to resist the prophets God had sent to them. And they're about to murder the best one God ever sent.
You've maybe had that awkward experience at a memorial service when someone's giving a eulogy, waxing on about how awesome the deceased person was, and you and everybody in the audience knows they couldn't stand them when they were alive. It's what they were doing.
The prophets were much easier to honor when they were dead and could not point out what they were doing wrong. They were so sure of themselves that they didn't have to listen to anyone.
It is sobering to concede, but it is possible to become so confident in your faith that you stop growing in it. We can become increasingly difficult to correct.
Might there be some glaring inconsistency in your life? Maybe an inconsistency that others see clear as day but that you're resistant to acknowledge. Do you need to ask for a soft heart? Do you need to ask for eyes to see?
Verse 52:
Woe to you lawyers for you have taken away the key of knowledge. You did not enter yourselves and you hindered those who were entering.
You're closing the door I came to open. You are keeping people out.
It's like being invited to someone's cabin outside of Winter Park. They say, "You're free to use it. Go on in. There's a key underneath the bench on the porch. Just please remember to put the key back when you leave because we have other people coming up after you." When you get there and grab the key, but you look in and think, "I don't want to stay here," you turn around, walk away, get back in your car with the key in your pocket.
It's one thing if you don't want to stay. But don't keep other people from enjoying the place.
It's a warning not just to the experts in the law back then, but to all of us who teach. To all of us who have influence over another. Are we ever the stumbling block to somebody coming to faith in Jesus? May we never be.
Verse 53:
As he went away from there, the scribes and the Pharisees began to press him hard and to provoke him to speak about many things, lying in wait for him to catch him in something he might say.
In Greek, it's very strong language. Even in our English translation, it doesn't sound good. If we'd been there, if we'd been caught in the middle of it, I think it would be low-key borderline terrifying. Jesus is trying to leave. He's trying to leave, and they're pressing against him. They're pressing hard against him. They're aggressively questioning him. They're trash talking him. They're wanting to trip him up.
For what? For telling the truth. They might not have loved it, but they should have believed it.
This is why I always want to pray for our educators and students at the beginning of a new school year. Whether you're going to be a high school freshman, a senior in college, a second-year history teacher, or a seasoned vice principal, the light is not always welcome. If God answers my prayer and people see his light in you, it could very well at times be lonely. It could potentially be hard. I can't change your school, but I can say we're here for you.
For those of us removed from school, we still know there remains a sting that can come from speaking of Jesus in a world that doesn't always want to hear of him.
So how do we, the people of the light, respond when the light we share isn't welcomed?
It's not the Pharisees' example. It's not the lawyer expert in the law's example. When the light isn't welcomed, we don't try to burden. When the light isn't welcomed, we do not attack. When the light is not welcomed, we do not obstruct.
The light may not always be welcomed, but love is always warranted. Always. Even if it means saying the hard thing. We say it in love.
It's not been an easy message. I was looking for a tick to get bit so I could get out of saying it. But I suspect if we're honest, we've seen a little of ourselves in the Pharisees. I suspect we felt the sting of someone treating us like the experts in the law did. My guess is all of us have a combination of both.
We began the message with that rather obscure proverb: "Blows that wound cleanse away evil, strokes make clean the innermost parts." And we've spent the time since listening to some of the hardest words Jesus ever spoke in the Gospel of Luke.
But as we come to his table, remember this: The one who is willing to wound us with the truth is the same one who is willing to be wounded, slaughtered, that we could have new life. As we hold the elements in our hands, it's not simply a symbol of what he's done for us. It's a picture of how he would like us to love others.
I think there's a lot that we could reflect on. Let each of us listen carefully to what he might want to say to our hearts.
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When the Light Exposes the Darkness
Good morning. I'm going to begin with an assumption—that the majority of us here today are fans of the Bible. We believe it and we love it. We love John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he sent his only son that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life." We love 1 John 1:9: "If we confess our sins, he's faithful and just to forgive us those sins and cleanse us of all unrighteousness."
But what about the harder passages? The ones that feel like a slap rather than a hug? As we've been studying the Gospel of Luke, we find Jesus in a section where he's saying hard things—correction, challenge, rebuke. Clearly, we prefer hugs. We would love a hug-only life. Yet we all recognize we need correction sometimes. Our Lord loves us enough to give us correction from time to time. Unfortunately, the way our passage breaks this morning, we're only going to get slaps. There are no hugs whatsoever. These are among Jesus' most spicy words in the Gospel of Luke.
Before we dive in, I want to pray for those beginning a new school year. The text we're studying shows us that influence carries tremendous responsibility. Our educators, administrators, and students have a real opportunity to exercise influence and be faithful representatives of Jesus Christ in the schools God has placed them. If you work in education or are attending school this fall, could I ask you to stand?
[After prayer for educators and students]
Let's turn to Luke chapter 11, verse 37. While Jesus was speaking, a Pharisee asked him to dine with him. So he went in and reclined at table.
Given what's about to happen, I feel empathy for this Pharisee. He has no idea. To his credit, Luke points out that while Jesus was speaking, the Pharisee invited him. There was something intriguing enough about what Jesus said that made the Pharisee want to have him for lunch. But clearly, he's not connecting the dots. There's no way he would have invited Jesus if he'd had any inkling of what Jesus was about to unleash on him and his friends.
By way of reminder, the Pharisees were a super serious religious group of lay people. In our context, we'd say they were more like deacons and commission leaders—committed, serious about their faith, lay people with responsibility.
What sets this fire off is quite subtle. Verse 38: "The Pharisee was astonished to see that he, Jesus, did not first wash before dinner." Now, moms, don't think Jesus was being gross. This wasn't washing to get clean. This was a ceremonial washing for purity's sake—for religious purposes that were not actually stipulated in the Old Testament. There was no command to do this before lunch. And on this day, Jesus didn't want to do it.
Luke doesn't record the Pharisee saying anything—just that he was astonished. I don't know if it was a demonstrative jaw drop or a subtle raised eyebrow. But his astonishment provided spark, and it's about to get real hot.
Here's the irony: the Pharisee is bothered by what he sees on the outside of Jesus—that Jesus didn't do this outside washing. And Jesus is about to tell him and his friends that their problem is precisely the opposite. You look good on the outside, but inside needs a lot of work.
Jesus begins with what they seek. Verse 39-41:
Now you Pharisees, cleanse the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness. You fools! Did not he who made the outside make the inside also? But give as alms those things that are within, and behold, everything is clean for you.
This is how lunch begins. The charge? You're more concerned with looking the part than being it. When I was growing up, we would have called them posers—all the gear, baggy shorts, the hat, but couldn't skateboard.
Consider a cupboard filled with perfectly organized, color-coded Tupperware. It could look amazing. But if someone opens any one of those containers and finds old, moldy crud inside, they're not impressed with your organization. It just really doesn't matter how good it looks if that's what's inside.
At minimum, Jesus is saying that genuine purity is not achieved by pouring a little bit of water on your hand. Real purity begins on the inside, and it is our insides that God is most concerned with.
The Pharisee made two mistakes. First, he judged Jesus according to what he thought mattered. But what's more insidious is that the vast majority of Pharisees had begun to believe that if they got the externals right, the external could somehow offset what was going on inside.
Are you currently walking the same path? On the outside, all looks well and good on a Sunday morning. But inside, something else is going on. A lot of us know when to stand, when to sit. We know the songs. We know some churchy language. You may even serve. Maybe you give. You're here. But inside—inside's a different story. Jesus wants inside.
Next comes a litany of woes. Biblically, a woe is a solemn declaration—a warning that someone is headed towards disaster. The charge here concerns what they do.
Verse 42:
Woe to you Pharisees, for you tithe mint, dill, and every herb, and neglect justice and the love of God. These you ought to have done without neglecting the others.
You're good at details, but you've lost the plot. They were incredibly fastidious about the smallest details of obedience, while at the same time overlooking things that mattered much more.
The law did require Israel to tithe off what they got from the land and herds. But here's what Jesus is getting at: You tithe a sprig of mint while, at the same time, you're using the legal system to take advantage of an impoverished poor person. I don't care about your little mint. Stop this.
I was on a flight once, and I was watching a show with headphones. But what caught my attention was a toddler a row and a half ahead bouncing in the aisle like she had an incredible vertical. I see the flight attendant booking behind her, just stepping over her, and she comes and stares at me. I take off my headphones and she says, "You need to put your tray table up."
Now listen. I'm all for getting your tray table up when the plane's about to land. But we also got to deal with that kid. She's going to bounce off the ceiling. Yes, the tray table matters, but that unbuckled kid should be a bigger deal.
Are you guilty of the same thing spiritually? Maybe you are down to the penny on your giving, but incredibly uncharitable with the words you use with others. Maybe you are meticulous in one area of obedience while neglecting something that matters more. Jesus wants some consistency. Tray tables matter, but the child more so.
The second woe concerns what they valued. Verse 43:
Woe to you Pharisees for you love the best seat in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplace.
They don't just appreciate recognition. They crave it. Maybe they even purposely wait outside the synagogue just so they get in at the last minute, so when they walk in someone in a better seat is like, "Oh, I am so sorry. Please. Thank you." They love walking at the Shops at Briargate and having someone run out of the AT&T store to say, "Oh, hello. It is so good to see you."
They loved the recognition given for their meticulous obedience—the best seats in the house, the elaborate greeting on the street. They loved to be the center of attention.
For us, this can be a little difficult to self-diagnose. There's nothing wrong with appreciating a word of encouragement. There's nothing wrong with appreciating a well-timed "attaboy" or "attagirl." There's nothing wrong with receiving encouragement or even affirmation for trying to live the Christian life well. But appreciating recognition and living for it are very different things.
Our culture does not really help. We literally have platforms designed to tell us how many people noticed us, how many people like us, how many people have followed us, how many people have approved of what we said. It is tough not to get sucked in. Are you falling for it?
Think about it: in the grand scheme of things, if you surveyed the entire Roman Empire, these Pharisees were very small fish. Jesus is the Lord of the universe. He rightly deserves all of our praise, yet he willingly humbled himself and became a servant. That's his example he wants us to follow. Jesus desires humility in us.
His final woe is the most scathing. Verse 44:
Woe to you, for you are like unmarked graves and people walk over them without knowing it.
You pride yourselves on being examples of righteousness when in truth you carry the stench of death. You think you're an example of righteousness, but if people follow you, you're leading them in a different direction.
The Old Testament had very strict laws concerning contact with the dead and with graves. An unmarked grave was a real concern because you could inadvertently, without knowing, walk over an unmarked grave and become ceremonially unclean. In their context, this is a huge problem.
In our context, it's like saying to a Christian friend at work, someone in your community group: "When I think of you, I really think about a wolf in sheep's clothing." It's fighting words.
The issue is that people were following these guys and thought they were being led well. Jesus is telling them: if you follow this lot, you're going the wrong way. What makes it tragic is that the lot doing the leading thought they were headed in the direction God wanted them to go.
How can I, 2,000 plus years later, be so sure they were going the wrong way? Because of what they were doing with Jesus. Ultimately, that's the test. People can know their Bible. People can appear righteous. They can even be respected as spiritual leaders. But if they get Jesus wrong, they're headed where you don't want to go.
To be saved, you need to confess Christ as Lord. You need to believe that God raised him from the dead. Jesus is not simply one piece of the puzzle. He's the entire thing. To get him wrong is to lose out on everything.
Appearances can be deceiving. Is there a chance that you're listening to or following someone that you should not?
Verse 45: "One of the lawyers answered him, 'Teacher, in saying these things, you insult us also.'"
On one hand, this is moderately admirable. I kind of like his moxie. On the other, dude's just poking the bear. Read the room, guy. Stay quiet.
The lawyers, or experts in the law, were the religious professionals. They interpreted the scriptures and taught them. If the Pharisees were loosely our deacons and commission leaders, the lawyers were more like our pastors and church staff. This one stands up in solidarity with the commission leaders: "Hey, Jesus, you're slamming them, you're slamming us also."
You can almost imagine Jesus slowly turning. Yes. I am. And he launches off.
Verse 46:
Woe to you lawyers also. For you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers.
You lead with an iron fist, but you live your own life with kid gloves. You put burdens and expectations on other people that you do not yourselves live up to.
Imagine you're heading to your campsite, hiking in with your family, all stoked. Then you see another family leaving their campsite, approaching you. Mom and dad look like they've had the best weekend of their entire life. They're skipping, they're stopping, they're taking photos. Then you get over the hill and on the other side, there's a seven-year-old daughter carrying all the gear. Your horror is interrupted by mom at the top of the hill: "Hurry up!"
That's what the lawyers and experts in the law were doing to people. Burdening them with all the laws, burdening them, but not lifting a finger.
There's a strong caution here for those of us who lead, for those of us who parent, for those of us who have any voice in anyone else's lives. I know we never want to appear soft on sin. And Jesus is clearly not being soft on sin in this passage. But generally speaking, I'd rather be accused of having too much grace than in the end find out that I was short of it.
Always remember: we follow one who never treats us as our sins deserve. We should keep that in mind when we are picking at the sins of others.
Verse 47-51:
Woe to you, for you build the tombs of the prophets whom your fathers killed. So you are witnesses and you consent to the deeds of your fathers, for they killed them and you build their tombs. Therefore also the wisdom of God said, 'I will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and persecute, so that the blood of all the prophets shed from the foundation of the world may be charged against this generation. From the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah, who perished between the altar and the sanctuary. Yes, I tell you, it will be required of this generation.'
You honor yesterday's prophets while resisting the ones who stand in front of you today. Their ancestors killed the prophets. Now they're building elaborate tombs to honor the ones their ancestors murdered. While at the same time, they're continuing to resist the prophets God had sent to them. And they're about to murder the best one God ever sent.
You've maybe had that awkward experience at a memorial service when someone's giving a eulogy, waxing on about how awesome the deceased person was, and you and everybody in the audience knows they couldn't stand them when they were alive. It's what they were doing.
The prophets were much easier to honor when they were dead and could not point out what they were doing wrong. They were so sure of themselves that they didn't have to listen to anyone.
It is sobering to concede, but it is possible to become so confident in your faith that you stop growing in it. We can become increasingly difficult to correct.
Might there be some glaring inconsistency in your life? Maybe an inconsistency that others see clear as day but that you're resistant to acknowledge. Do you need to ask for a soft heart? Do you need to ask for eyes to see?
Verse 52:
Woe to you lawyers for you have taken away the key of knowledge. You did not enter yourselves and you hindered those who were entering.
You're closing the door I came to open. You are keeping people out.
It's like being invited to someone's cabin outside of Winter Park. They say, "You're free to use it. Go on in. There's a key underneath the bench on the porch. Just please remember to put the key back when you leave because we have other people coming up after you." When you get there and grab the key, but you look in and think, "I don't want to stay here," you turn around, walk away, get back in your car with the key in your pocket.
It's one thing if you don't want to stay. But don't keep other people from enjoying the place.
It's a warning not just to the experts in the law back then, but to all of us who teach. To all of us who have influence over another. Are we ever the stumbling block to somebody coming to faith in Jesus? May we never be.
Verse 53:
As he went away from there, the scribes and the Pharisees began to press him hard and to provoke him to speak about many things, lying in wait for him to catch him in something he might say.
In Greek, it's very strong language. Even in our English translation, it doesn't sound good. If we'd been there, if we'd been caught in the middle of it, I think it would be low-key borderline terrifying. Jesus is trying to leave. He's trying to leave, and they're pressing against him. They're pressing hard against him. They're aggressively questioning him. They're trash talking him. They're wanting to trip him up.
For what? For telling the truth. They might not have loved it, but they should have believed it.
This is why I always want to pray for our educators and students at the beginning of a new school year. Whether you're going to be a high school freshman, a senior in college, a second-year history teacher, or a seasoned vice principal, the light is not always welcome. If God answers my prayer and people see his light in you, it could very well at times be lonely. It could potentially be hard. I can't change your school, but I can say we're here for you.
For those of us removed from school, we still know there remains a sting that can come from speaking of Jesus in a world that doesn't always want to hear of him.
So how do we, the people of the light, respond when the light we share isn't welcomed?
It's not the Pharisees' example. It's not the lawyer expert in the law's example. When the light isn't welcomed, we don't try to burden. When the light isn't welcomed, we do not attack. When the light is not welcomed, we do not obstruct.
The light may not always be welcomed, but love is always warranted. Always. Even if it means saying the hard thing. We say it in love.
It's not been an easy message. I was looking for a tick to get bit so I could get out of saying it. But I suspect if we're honest, we've seen a little of ourselves in the Pharisees. I suspect we felt the sting of someone treating us like the experts in the law did. My guess is all of us have a combination of both.
We began the message with that rather obscure proverb: "Blows that wound cleanse away evil, strokes make clean the innermost parts." And we've spent the time since listening to some of the hardest words Jesus ever spoke in the Gospel of Luke.
But as we come to his table, remember this: The one who is willing to wound us with the truth is the same one who is willing to be wounded, slaughtered, that we could have new life. As we hold the elements in our hands, it's not simply a symbol of what he's done for us. It's a picture of how he would like us to love others.
I think there's a lot that we could reflect on. Let each of us listen carefully to what he might want to say to our hearts.
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