Luke 15:1-10; September 14, 2025; Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
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Three points to today’s sermon, which in moments will sound like last week’s sermon. But sometimes scripture likes to repeat itself, and really, who’s to argue with that?
So, you ready?
The first point today is called: “Let’s quit our grumbling, y’all”
“Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” – Luke 15:1-2
My friends, in our lives today, are we these pharisees or are we the shepherds? Are we actively looking for those who are lost and wayward, inviting them into our churches and lives? Or are we grumbling and gatekeeping along our way?
The Pharisees were certainly grumbling and gatekeeping. And they couldn’t believe this Jesus dude. Eating and welcoming sinners? Regular human beings into his circle? How dare he!
And while we are indeed laughing at the Pharisees for their narrow-mindedness, I wonder if we are actually more like them than we want to admit.
I mean, have you ever caught yourself grumbling when this church welcomes come-as-you-are people into our pews? Into our Community Center? Do you find yourselves wondering why your staff has invited those people into our shared life together?
You’ve all heard the term NIMBY, right? It stands for: Not In My Back Yard. Well, how many of us talk about our faith as the source of our life – this faith, mind you, which welcomes and protects the stranger — only to practice NIMBYism both in here and out there? In our workplaces, neighborhoods, and communities?
My friends, let’s not be NIMBY’s today. Let’s not be like the scribes and Pharisees. Let’s quit our grumbling, y’all, especially as Jesus saw no issue breaking bread with sinners, with outcasts… with strange people, hysterical people, tax people, tattooed people…and even, living and dying for those people.
Let’s quit our grumbling, y’all. Okay?
Okay.
That was the first point.
Not too bad right?
Here’s the second – “Let’s rejoice when we find who’s lost.”
“What woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?” – Luke 15:8
Ten silver coins may sound like nothing to us. But to this woman, contextually, it was like losing 10-days’ worth of wages, if not her entire life savings. She was not, like, looking for a coin in the couch for the ice cream truck; no, she was looking for her livelihood which had escaped from her.
…You know, perhaps like you, I was born on third base with a hundred coins. Not that I did anything to deserve it, mind you. My portal just so happened to open at the coordinates of a loving, affluent, wealthy family. I was endowed with so much that if ever I lost anything, I had an endless reservoir from which to restock from. Ten coins missing, one sheep gone astray… eh, I could always count the 90 or more I had in the bank.
But, some years ago, I did lose something, and the 100 in my life was subtracted by 1. And though it was only 1, the 99 seemingly lost all their value too. And no, I’m not talking about a girl today. A previous love that got away. Though I did lose that too, once. But that’s for another day and story.
What I mean is that I had a crisis of faith. And even though I had 99 other things to fall back on, I found myself on the ground, like the woman, searching for answers. Perhaps you have too?
I know I’ve told you some version of this before, but I never had an epiphany. A God-naming-Brian moment. Heck, I applied to Princeton Theological from an internet café in Italy, during a time in my life when I was more adventurous but also completely unmoored from any dock or compass. In truth, I went to Seminary hoping I could recover what had escaped from me.
But at first, it didn’t go so well. I was surrounded by narrow-minded people who had small views of God, angry views of God, and a weird version of Christ who didn’t seem to at all represent the one I read about in Matthew 25 and elsewhere. I tried. I studied. I read. I prayed. But nothing seemed to work.
So, I brought myself to my field-ed advisor and told her I was leaving. And as she sat there listening to all of the reasons why — all of my progressive takes, and doubts, and laments over the dogmatic theologies of my colleagues — she kind of just sat there smiling. At first, I thought she was deranged. But when she finally spoke, she said she had the perfect placement for me, somewhere on a Hill, where I could find myself and God calling me yet.
And man, it’s good that I listened, because you know what, she was right! For God never gave up on me. Just like God, Jesus the Good Shepherd, has never given up on you. For God finds us on our hills, away from the pasture, and does everything possible to bring us back into the fold. Back to the 99 who never left. And even though God might look different afterwards than previously remembered or believed, I honestly think we’re made stronger for it — once lost, then found…
So about a year later, I went back to that advisor, and I relayed just how much she had helped me, and how ministry on the ground is indeed so much different than ministry in the clouds… and after listening for a while, she told me, and I’ll never forget it: “Brian, which one of us after losing a sheep does not rejoice when it is found?” And then she added this: “I charge you to embolden those who never left, while ministering to those who already have.”
Which leads us to point 3: that “God loves to play Mario-Kart”
And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my lost sheep.’ – Luke 10:6
In the video game, Mario-Kart, on Nintendo, there is a powerful force at play known amongst gamers as “Rubber-banding.” Perhaps you know of it?
It goes like this: no matter how well you are racing, or out ahead, the game will seemingly always find a way to bring those in the back towards the front. Your skill really doesn’t matter. The game will dynamically adjust the difficulty level so that all are given about the same chance to finish first.
And man, so many people hate it. They grumble over it! They say it takes away from the goal of the game, saying things like, “I’m running this race correctly, why does the dude who stinks deserve to get all the fun items to catch up… like, it’s not fair that a little girl called Daisy can compete with a mighty king called Bowser!”
It’s not fair! …Well, you know what, it’s also probably not fair that the ones who went astray could also be called pastors at Grace, but here I am, and here she is. Nor is it likely fair that Christ is still out there searching for those who have left when God’s already got all of us right here…
But here’s the thing, to Jesus, it is. For all of us sinners are not only loved by Him, but also welcomed to eat, live, and work alongside him.
And isn’t that great? I certainly think so.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
