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| "Red Door" by Andrew Priest, on flickr |
Galatians 1:6-12
I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel—not that there is another gospel, but there are some who are confusing you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should proclaim to you a gospel contrary to what we proclaimed to you, let that one be accursed! As we have said before, so now I repeat, if anyone proclaims to you a gospel contrary to what you received, let that one be accursed! Am I now seeking human approval, or God’s approval? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ. For I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ.
Luke 7:1-10
After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to death. When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, “He is worthy of having you do this for him, for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.” And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, “Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does it.” When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.
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When was the last time somebody stopped by your house unannounced? And not, like, a political canvasser or salesperson or somebody that just wanted a quick chat on the doorstep. I’m talking about a friend or neighbor, stopping by on a whim, where the only polite thing to do is to invite them in for a cup of tea.
I’m sure that there are at least a few of you out there who are generally prepared for that scenario. Your house is always tidy, or at least tidy enough. You don’t have a laundry basket sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and the dishes are always tucked safely in the dishwasher.You always have the coffeepot or tea kettle at the ready, and keep a stash of nice cookies in the pantry.
Friends, this is not me. Maybe you can sympathize. Unannounced visitors always send me into a flurry of apologies, whether about the state of the floor under Sam’s high chair or the dishes in the sink, or the laundry half-folded that is taking up one of the couches in the living room. I’m hit or miss on having treats. The only reliable thing is that I’ll be able to make a pot of coffee, but there’s a chance I won’t let you anywhere near the kitchen while I’m making it.
Or maybe…maybe I suggest to said visitor that it is a lovely day and why don’t we walk up town for some coffee, as I quickly close the door behind me and shut out whatever parts of my house aren’t currently fit for proper entertaining.
In our gospel reading today, we have a centurion with a sick slave, who summons Jesus but then doesn’t let Jesus into his house. It is a strange little story, one that is full of gaps and holes and questions.
It is a story completely mediated by third-party conversations. The centurion talks to the Jewish elders, who approach Jesus and vouch for his worth. Then Jesus and the elders head to the centurion’s house, and it is not the centurion but a group of his friends who meet them on the road to tell them that Mr. Centurion would prefer that Jesus NOT actually enter his house, but would he please heal the slave from afar? The centurion, in his message, appeals to his similarity to Jesus. “Hey Jesus,” he says, “you and I are not all that different, you know. I command a group of soldiers by authority given to me from those who outrank me, and I say the word, and they do what I say. You also have authority given to you from above, and when you say the word, the powers of the universe obey you.” And despite the fact that this comparison feels like a smarmy and manipulative move to me, it turns out that Jesus sees it as a sign of faith, and by the time the friends get back to the house, the slave is healed.
We don’t know why the centurion trusted Jesus and we don’t know why he wanted his slave to be healed. We don’t know why he sent his friends to do his dirty work, and we don’t know whether he claimed to be “unworthy” of having Jesus enter his house out of genuine respect or out of false humility.
What we have in today’s gospel is a weird story where human motives seem to be unclear, but where Jesus' love is abundant. Which means that it is a story that teaches us an important lesson about Jesus, and an important lesson about ourselves.
What this story teaches us about Jesus is that his merciful action in our world and in our lives doesn't depend upon us. Jesus healed the slave despite the strange circumstances. Jesus healed the slave despite the fact that he was doing a favor for the Roman occupation.
The love and mercy of Jesus, it turns out, don’t depend on our worthiness, upon our motives, or upon our shortcomings. Jesus offers himself to us whether we are insiders or outsiders, whether we are confident in faith or nervous.
The good news about Jesus that this story shows us is that Jesus is always crossing boundaries to restore life to the world, and the life and love and mercy and forgiveness that Jesus gives are always true and real and powerful, no matter what roadblocks we humans put in his way.
What this story teaches us about ourselves, however, is an even more interesting matter. Because it raises the question about how we respond when Christ comes knocking at our door, wanting to enter our house, a Christ who desires deeply not merely to serve us, but to be in relationship with us, to see us face-to-face and not mediated through the church or through our neighbors.
The centurion wants Jesus to come close…but not too close. I think that we often respond to Jesus in the same way.
There are plenty of reasons that we, as humans, might love Jesus and trust Jesus….but still want to keep him at arms’ length.
Maybe we are ashamed of our brokenness or we feel unworthy. Maybe we want to stay hidden. Maybe we worry about how our prayers and petitions to Jesus are sometimes a mix of honest intercession and selfish bargaining. Maybe our faith doesn’t feel sufficient.
Maybe we block Jesus on the road because we've had too many experiences of calling Jesus and having him not show up like we expected, and so now we'd rather keep him far off by our own power than risk being disappointed again.
We have plenty of reasons, each of us, for not wanting to let Jesus come close.
Maybe the biggest reason, though, is that we are afraid of what is going to happen once we let Jesus all the way in. I think that we know, deep in our hearts, that once Jesus crosses the threshold, he is not going to just offer us grace, but he is going to shape us and transform us to be his disciples in the world. And while we like the idea of being called to discipleship, but don't love the idea that discipleship means letting Jesus change us.
Because it would be much easier we had a savior who gives us permission to stay the same, who nods along with our preconceived opinions, who blesses our life as-is, who never challenges us to look at the world differently, or who never asks us to face our own sinfulness, selfishness, and need for mercy.
I think this is some of what Paul is addressing, albeit rather harshly, in the opening to his letter to the Galatians. He chastises them for following around gospels other than the gospel of Christ. He exhorts them to worry more about serving Christ than people-pleasing.
I think that for us, our heart's desire to keep Jesus close but not too close could be a sign of us, like the Galatians, wanting to keep our options open, waiting to keep a range of gospels at our disposal. We live by gospels that we want to be life-giving - gospels of diet or of wealth, gospels of influence or reputation, gospels of politics or ideology. And we know that if we let Jesus come close, we might have to give up some or all of those other gospels for the true gospel, which promises us life, but that first asks us to walk to the cross with all of the other stuff in our life that isn’t so holy or life-giving.
I think that, like the Galatians, we hesitate to let Jesus come close because we know that he will change our hearts, making us more merciful, making us less resentful, asking us to forgive more and bending us toward divine justice, all of which will likely put us at odds with the structures of our world. It's hard to let Jesus come close when we know that it might do the exact opposite of making us popular; that it might put it at odds with people or structures or situations that once defined and supported us.
As you think about your own life and your own journey of faith, what is it for you that causes you to keep Jesus at arms' length? Is it doubt or shame? Feelings of unworthiness? Fear of loss? Fear of being changed?
But what if….I mean, really….what if I could promise you that it’s totally worth it to let Jesus cross the threshold? What would have happened if the centurion would have let Jesus into his house?
I suppose that things would have gotten weird and messy at first. And vulnerable. And the centurion would have had to wrestle with his feelings of unworthiness or shame, all while sitting across from Jesus, the man whose only job is to assure this man and all people that they are loved and forgiven, totally unconditionally, by the God who made all things and loves the whole creation. And then maybe the centurion would have had to resign his position, and maybe he would have been a disciple, and maybe he would have had to give up everything, but in doing so, he’d get a front row seat to view every miracle, every healing, every teaching, and even the resurrection of Christ himself.
Friends, the same is true for us. Letting Jesus in is weird and messy at first, because it means letting Jesus see us as we are, on our home turf, with unwashed hair and dirty dishes in the sink, broken bodies and souls and dirty laundry we hoped would never be aired. But then, looking into his eyes, we realize that he doesn’t write us off because of our shame, and he doesn’t go snooping in our medicine cabinets to tease us about our illnesses, but instead offers himself to heal us instead.
And then, his compassionate heart begins to become our compassionate heart, and yes, this might mean that we change our habits or change our friends, or that we change jobs or sell all our stuff or leave home to follow his call wherever it leads. And somehow, in the midst of our hearts being changed, it stops being so scary. Because Jesus is changing us for the good. For our own good. For the good of the world. He’s making us his own, his disciples, his very hands and feet on this earth, and he is giving us a front row seat to see all that God is doing in our world. This is called transformation. This is called faith.
What we have to trust is that meeting Jesus face-to-face might take us apart, but that it will also put us back together in new and holy ways.
If we trust the truth about Jesus: that his grace and mercy are unconditional, that his power to heal and to bring life isn’t diminished by our own human bumbling…then what is stopping us from trusting the truth about ourselves, that Jesus comes to us with arms open wide, seeking to know us and love us from he inside out, and that there is no risk to letting Jesus in that isn’t offset by the magnitude of love that Jesus wraps around us in a holy and overwhelming embrace.
Friends, as we enter this long green season of Pentecost, a season focused on growing in faith and discipleship, today’s gospel is a perfect launching-off point for us.
As you learn more about Jesus, discipleship, and yourself between now and November, I pray that you would feel Jesus inching closer and closer to the center of your soul. I pray that Jesus would come as close to you every day as he does in these waters of baptism and this meal of bread and wine. I pray that you would find peace and courage as Christ’s love washes away your shame and heals your brokenness and transforms your heart.
May we all be blessed in this journey of faith, to let Christ dwell in us so deeply, so richly, that nothing about us is left the same. Because we are being transformed into people of light and life, for the sake of Christ, for the sake of one another, and for the sake of the whole world.
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