Luke 17:5–10

When the apostles turned to Jesus and cried, “Increase our faith!” it must have seemed like the most reasonable prayer in the world. Who among us hasn’t prayed for a stronger, deeper faith—especially when life feels heavy or uncertain? Yet Jesus’ response surprises them and us. Instead of telling them how to gain more faith, He says that even faith the size of a mustard seed is enough to uproot a mulberry tree and cast it into the sea. Then, almost unexpectedly, He follows with a short parable about servants doing their duty without expectation of reward. Through this teaching, Jesus turns our common assumptions upside down. Faith, He insists, is not measured by size, emotion, or dramatic outcomes, but by trustful obedience—a quiet confidence in God that takes root in humility.

Jesus’ words remind us that faith is not a possession we accumulate, but a relationship we live out daily. The disciples imagined that if they only had more faith, they could do greater things. But Jesus shifts the focus away from quantity to direction. Faith is powerful not because of how much we have, but because of the One in whom it rests. A mustard seed of faith—small, seemingly insignificant—can do extraordinary things when placed in God’s hands. The question, then, is not “How big is my faith?” but “Where is my faith planted?” Many of us struggle with doubt or feelings of inadequacy. We think we must reach a higher spiritual level before God can work through us. Yet Jesus tells us otherwise: what matters most is not the magnitude of our belief, but our willingness to trust Him in the moment before us. When we dare to trust, even in weakness, that small seed of faith becomes alive with divine potential.

Faith, however, is not only about what we believe—it is about how we live. That is why Jesus adds the story of the servant who, after working in the field, returns to prepare his master’s meal without complaint. The servant doesn’t expect praise or special treatment for doing what he is called to do. His faithfulness lies in showing up, fulfilling his responsibilities, and serving with a loyal heart. In this parable, Jesus reminds us that faith is practiced not in grand gestures, but in the ordinary rhythms of daily life. Every act of service, every prayer whispered, every moment of forgiveness or compassion becomes a small but powerful expression of faith. We often think faith grows only through great moments of spiritual revelation, but in truth, it matures most deeply through consistency—by reading Scripture, showing kindness, caring for those in need, and remaining faithful even when no one is watching. These ordinary acts become sacred when they are offered to God in love.

At the heart of this passage lies an essential quality of faith—humility. “We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty,” Jesus concludes. At first, those words might sound discouraging. But they are, in fact, a lesson in grace. Jesus is not teaching self-deprecation; He is teaching perspective. Genuine faith is never about pride or recognition—it is about surrender. When we remember that all we are and all we have come from God’s mercy, we are freed from the need to prove ourselves. Faith-filled living means recognizing that our service to God is not a way to earn divine approval but a joyful response to grace already given. God’s love always precedes our effort. We love because God first loved us. We serve not to gain favor but because we belong to the One who calls us His own. In that humility, our hearts find rest, and our faith finds strength.

The truth of this story, then, is both challenging and comforting. Faith does not need to be impressive—it needs to be alive. Even a small, sincere faith rooted in God’s grace can move mountains, heal relationships, and transform lives. Our culture often celebrates the spectacular, but God celebrates the faithful—the ones who keep showing up, praying, serving, forgiving, and trusting, even when no one notices. When we place our little faith into God’s great hands, we discover that “little” becomes “more than enough.” The same God who multiplies loaves and fishes, who turns weakness into strength, continues to work wonders through the small seeds of faith we dare to plant.

So, let us take comfort in knowing that God is not asking us for greatness but for faithfulness. The disciples’ prayer, “Increase our faith,” remains a good and honest prayer—but perhaps Jesus would answer us the same way today: “You already have enough.” What we need is not more faith but a heart willing to trust, serve, and love in the ordinary moments of life. As we do so, that small seed of faith—nurtured by obedience and watered by humility—will bear fruit beyond anything we could imagine.

Text: Luke 16:19–31

Introduction – The Power of Parables

The story we just heard is one of Jesus’ parables. A parable is not just a simple tale — it’s a teaching tool, a way of revealing deep truths through everyday images. Jesus didn’t lecture in abstract theology; He told stories that ordinary people could recognize: farmers sowing seeds, shepherds seeking lost sheep, neighbors knocking on doors, merchants searching for pearls.

Parables are both simple and profound. On the surface, they seem like ordinary stories, but underneath, they carry the weight of eternal truth. They invite us in, but they also challenge us. They ask us not only to listen but to place ourselves inside the story — to wonder, “Who am I here? What is God saying to me through this?”

Today’s parable, the story of the rich man and Lazarus, is not just about two men who lived very different lives. It is about the great reversal of grace — the unsettling truth that God’s kingdom does not measure life by wealth, status, or comfort, but by compassion, justice, and mercy.

Insights from Joachim Jeremias

One of the most important scholars on parables is Joachim Jeremias, a German New Testament scholar who taught that parables must be understood in their original historical context. He reminds us that Jesus’ first listeners were shocked by these stories. They lived in a world where wealth was respected and poverty often ignored. Jesus’ parables disrupted that expectation.

Jeremias highlights three important lessons for us:

1. Historical Context: Understanding the social and economic world of first-century Palestine gives depth to the parables.
2. Element of Surprise: Parables contain twists that force listeners to confront their assumptions.
3. Kingdom Focus: Parables point not just to the future but to the present reality of God’s kingdom breaking in.

Takeaway for preaching: Parables are not just moral lessons; they are invitations to experience God’s kingdom in real life. They challenge us, provoke us, and call us to live differently today.

Reading the Parable

Let’s look at Luke 16:19–31 through this lens:

1. Historical Context
In Jesus’ time, wealth was often seen as a sign of divine favor, and poverty as a sign of curse. The rich man, who had everything, is nameless. The poor man, Lazarus, is named — “God helps.” Jesus is asking: Whose names do we remember? Whose faces matter to us — the powerful or the suffering?

2. Element of Surprise
After death, the rich man is in torment, and Lazarus is comforted. Even in suffering, the rich man still treats Lazarus as a servant. Abraham’s response is clear: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” No miracle will soften a hardened heart.

3. Kingdom Focus
The parable is about more than the afterlife. It is a call to live differently now. The kingdom is already here, and it calls us to act with justice, mercy, and compassion. Lazarus represents those on the margins who will be lifted up in God’s reign.

Transition – From Story to Our Lives

And so the question comes to us, right here and now. If parables are meant to draw us in, we cannot stand at a distance. We have to ask: Where am I in this story? Am I like the rich man, so absorbed in my own comfort that I overlook the Lazarus at my gate? Or am I open to seeing, to listening, to responding with compassion?

Jesus is not simply talking about the future. He is talking about today — about the choices we make, the people we notice or ignore, the way we use what God has placed in our hands. This parable presses us to bring the kingdom into our neighborhoods, into our church, into the way we treat one another.

Practical Application – Living the Parable Today

The story of the rich man and Lazarus is not meant to leave us with fear, but with clarity. Jesus is reminding us that the kingdom of God breaks in when we learn to see those around us with new eyes.

Who is Lazarus at our gate today? Maybe it is the neighbor who is lonely and forgotten. Maybe it is the single parent working two jobs who still cannot make ends meet. Maybe it is the refugee, the immigrant, or the child who struggles at school. Maybe it is the person right in our pews who quietly carries pain we have not noticed.

This parable is also a word for the church. We are called not to measure our life together by numbers, budgets, or buildings, but by the depth of our compassion. A church that lives this parable is a church that notices — that opens its doors, its tables, and its hearts to those who are often overlooked.

And it is a word for each of us personally. God has entrusted us with blessings — time, talents, resources, opportunities. The question is not how much we have, but how we use what we have. Do we share it? Do we give generously? Do we let God’s grace flow through us so that others are lifted up?

The rich man’s tragedy was not his wealth; it was his blindness. The invitation of this parable is to open our eyes, to see as God sees, and to live with a compassion that reflects the kingdom of heaven here and now.

Conclusion – The Great Reversal of Grace

The parables of Jesus are not meant to crush us with guilt but to awaken us to grace. The story of the rich man and Lazarus is not just a warning; it is an invitation. An invitation to open our eyes, to notice the people God has placed before us, to live with mercy and generosity.

The good news is that God’s grace makes this possible. We cannot change our hearts on our own — but Christ can. He is the one who crossed the great chasm for us, who left the riches of heaven to enter our poverty, who gave His life so that we might be lifted into the arms of God.

And because of Him, the great reversal has already begun. The last are becoming first, the forgotten are being remembered, and the poor are being called by name.

So let us live as children of that kingdom. Let us see Lazarus at our gate, not as a burden but as a brother, not as a stranger but as a sister. And let us trust that in God’s hands, even the smallest act of compassion can carry eternal weight.

For the kingdom of God is here. And the grace of Christ is more than enough. Amen.

Luke 16:1–13

Introduction: A Liquid World

The sociologist Zygmunt Bauman once said that we live in what he called a liquid society. His image is striking. Unlike solid times, when values, institutions, and commitments felt strong and durable, our age is liquid. Things no longer seem to hold together. Relationships are fragile. Promises are temporary. Values feel like they can dissolve at any moment.

In a liquid world, everything flows, everything shifts, and nothing seems to last. Think about how quickly trends come and go, how jobs change, how loyalties break, how even truth is questioned. We see it in politics, in economics, in families, and yes, even in the church.

Bauman’s point was not to celebrate this but to warn us. In liquid times, it is hard to build trust. It is hard to anchor ourselves. It is hard to know what will endure.

And into this world, into our liquid times, comes the gospel reading for today — the parable of the dishonest manager.

The Parable: A Shrewd but Unfaithful Man

Jesus tells a story about a rich man and his manager. The manager is accused of wasting his master’s possessions. He is called to give an account, and he knows his days are numbered. He panics. He says, “I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m too ashamed to beg. What am I going to do?”

So he comes up with a plan. He goes to his master’s debtors and reduces their bills. A hundred jugs of oil? Let’s make it fifty. A hundred containers of wheat? Let’s call it eighty. He does this so that when he loses his job, these people will welcome him into their homes.

And then comes the twist: the master commends him. Not for being dishonest, but for being shrewd. Jesus adds: “The children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.”

Now, if we stopped here, the parable would sound like Jesus is saying: be clever, even dishonest, to secure your future. But Jesus never commends dishonesty. He uses this strange story to make a different point. The point is not cleverness, but faithfulness.

Faithful in Little, Faithful in Much

Jesus explains it clearly:
“Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.”

Faithfulness does not begin with grand, heroic acts. Faithfulness begins in the small things. How we handle the little responsibilities of daily life reveals how we will handle larger ones.

• If we cannot be faithful with money — something Jesus calls “dishonest wealth” — how will we be faithful with true riches, the treasures of God’s kingdom?
• If we cannot be faithful with what belongs to another — for all we have is God’s — how can we be trusted with our own?

Faithfulness is not measured by the size of our task, but by the constancy of our heart.

Faithfulness in Liquid Times

And here is where Bauman’s liquid society comes back in. In a world where commitments dissolve, where values shift, where loyalties are fragile, faithfulness becomes radical.

Think about it:

• In a world where promises are easily broken, keeping a promise is an act of faithfulness.
• In a world where truth is treated as flexible, speaking the truth is an act of faithfulness.
• In a world where relationships are disposable, being loyal is an act of faithfulness.
• In a world where wealth and possessions rule, serving God with our whole heart is the deepest act of faithfulness.

Faithfulness is solid in a liquid world. It is firm when everything else flows away.

Choosing Our Master

Jesus ends this teaching with words as sharp as they are clear:
“No servant can serve two masters; for a servant will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

In liquid times, we are tempted to try to serve many masters. We want to be loyal to God, but we also want to be loyal to wealth, to success, to comfort, to our own self-preservation.

But Jesus says we cannot serve both. Faithfulness is not divided loyalty. Faithfulness is choosing one Master. Faithfulness is placing our trust in the One who is solid, the One who is unshakable, the One who is faithful to us.

Faithfulness as Stewardship

At the heart of this parable is the theme of stewardship. We are all managers, not owners. Everything we have — our money, our possessions, our time, our talents, even our very lives — belongs to God. We are entrusted with them for a time, and one day we will give an account.

The dishonest manager used what he had for self-preservation. Jesus calls us to use what we have for God’s kingdom. To use it faithfully, generously, wisely.

John Wesley put it this way in his famous sermon on money:

• Gain all you can, honestly.
• Save all you can, simply.
• Give all you can, generously.

Wesley knew what Jesus was saying: money is a tool, never a master. What matters is not how much we have, but how faithfully we use what God entrusts to us.

What Faithfulness Looks Like

So what does faithfulness look like in liquid times?

• It looks like a marriage covenant kept through thick and thin.
• It looks like parents caring patiently for their children.
• It looks like workers doing their jobs with integrity, even when no one is watching.
• It looks like disciples who pray, who serve, who give, who love, not for recognition, but because they are faithful to God.
• It looks like a church that remains committed to its mission, even when times are uncertain.

Faithfulness is not glamorous. It is not flashy. But it endures.

God’s Faithfulness to Us

And let us never forget: we are able to be faithful because God is faithful first.

• God has been faithful from generation to generation.
• God is faithful to His promises.
• God is faithful even when we are unfaithful.
• God’s faithfulness is the rock on which we stand.

In liquid times, when everything seems unstable, we can rely on this: “Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father. There is no shadow of turning with Thee.”

Conclusion: Solid Ground in a Liquid World

Bauman was right: we live in liquid times. Commitments dissolve. Loyalties shift. Values feel uncertain. But Jesus calls us to something solid: faithfulness.

Faithfulness in little things. Faithfulness in big things. Faithfulness with what God has entrusted to us. Faithfulness to one Master.

And when we live faithfully, we bear witness to the God who is forever faithful.

S

Luke 15:1–10

Introduction
We live in a world that measures almost everything by numbers.
We celebrate big achievements—large crowds, big profits, successful statistics.
But Jesus tells us two stories that remind us of something different: in the kingdom of God, it’s not the majority or the masses that matter most. It’s the one.

One Sheep Matters
Jesus says, “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one, does not leave the ninety-nine and go after the one that is lost?”
From a human perspective, ninety-nine out of one hundred is a very good success rate.
But not for the shepherd.
The shepherd cannot rest knowing that one is lost, vulnerable, alone. He searches until he finds it. And when he does, he carries it home with joy.

This is a picture of God’s heart for us. Each of us matters to Him. None of us is expendable. We are not numbers on a page—we are beloved children.

One Coin Matters
Then Jesus tells another story: a woman has ten silver coins, and she loses one.
She lights a lamp, sweeps the house, and searches carefully until she finds it.
When she does, she calls her neighbors to rejoice with her.

To us, a single coin might not seem like much. But for her, it represents a day’s wage, security, and value. She refuses to stop searching until it is found.

In the same way, God treasures each of us. One life is worth His pursuit. One heart is worth His joy.

The Value of One in a Violent World
When Jesus told these parables, he was not speaking in a time of peace. His people lived under Roman occupation, where violence, fear, and oppression were part of daily life.
And yet, his message was clear: every single life has value.

Friends, we know how desperately our world needs this truth today. We turn on the news and see political violence rising—in nations torn apart by war, in communities fractured by hatred, even in our own country where anger and division so often lead to harm.
Violence treats people as disposable, as obstacles to be overcome.
But God sees each person—each victim, each refugee, each neighbor—not as a statistic but as someone worth seeking, saving, and rejoicing over.

The gospel stands as a bold witness against violence because it insists on the value of the one.

The Value of One to God
What do these parables teach us? That in God’s eyes, every person is priceless.
Not one is overlooked. Not one is forgotten. Not one is too small or too lost to be searched for.

And when the lost are found, there is joy in heaven. Notice what Jesus says: “There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

God’s joy is not measured in crowds but in the return of one beloved child.

Application for Us
If this is God’s heart, then it must also be the heart of the church.

In a world where violence devalues human life, the church is called to be different. We proclaim the sacred worth of every person. We embody peace, compassion, and reconciliation. We rejoice when the one is found.

Conclusion
The message of these parables is deeply personal. You are the “one.”
You are the sheep the shepherd carried home. You are the coin God searched for. You are the reason for heaven’s celebration.

And now, in a world so often torn apart by anger and violence, we are called to live with the same love—to see, to value, to rejoice over the one.
Because in God’s kingdom, the value of one is everything.

Amen.

Luke 14:1, 7–14

The Gospel of Luke is sometimes called the “Gospel of the Table” because meals play such an important role in it. Jesus is often found eating with others, whether with tax collectors, Pharisees, or his disciples. These shared meals are never just about food—they become moments of revelation, teaching, and grace. In Luke’s world, who you ate with determined your status, and meals often reinforced social boundaries. But Jesus used meals to break those boundaries down, opening fellowship to those normally excluded. Hospitality is a central theme in Luke, pointing us toward the wide welcome of God’s kingdom. Today’s passage in Luke 14 illustrates this beautifully. Jesus is invited to a Pharisee’s home, and he uses that occasion to teach us about the posture of our hearts, the call to humility, and the radical hospitality of God’s table.

1. Jesus Sees Our Hearts at the Table
The Pharisees were watching Jesus closely, but Luke tells us that Jesus was also watching them. He noticed how guests chose the places of honor at the table, jockeying for recognition. Their actions revealed their hearts—seeking status, striving for approval, competing for the best seat. Jesus’ observation reminds us that our outward behaviors reflect inward attitudes. Where do we seek recognition today? Is it in titles, achievements, or influence? The table becomes a stage where the hidden motives of our hearts are made visible. But Jesus sees beyond appearances. He calls us to examine whether we are truly living for God’s honor or merely for our own.

2. Jesus Taught the Way of Humility
In response, Jesus tells a parable about choosing the lowest place. His teaching flips social expectations upside down. In the world, the way to greatness is to push ahead, climb higher, and secure recognition. But in God’s kingdom, greatness comes through humility. “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” Humility is not false modesty; it is a posture of trust in God. It means we do not have to prove ourselves or fight for recognition, because our worth comes from God’s love. Jesus himself embodied this humility. As Paul would later write in Philippians, Christ emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and was exalted by God. True honor is not seized but received as a gift from God.

3. Jesus Taught the Way of Hospitality
After speaking about humility, Jesus expands the lesson into hospitality. In his culture, meals often functioned as social contracts—you invited those who could repay you, ensuring your place in the web of obligations. But Jesus says, “When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” He calls us to extend hospitality to those who cannot give anything in return. This is a radical vision, for it mirrors God’s own hospitality toward us. God has welcomed us through Christ not because of our worthiness, but because of His grace. We cannot repay Him. The kingdom of God is a feast where everyone—especially the excluded—has a place. At the Lord’s Table we see this vision fulfilled: rich and poor, honored and forgotten, sinner and saint, all come together, not because of merit, but because of invitation. The Eucharist is the sign that God’s hospitality is wider than we can imagine.

So what does this mean for us? First, it means allowing Christ to search our hearts—asking whether we are striving for our own honor or resting in God’s love. Second, it means practicing humility, not pushing to the front of life’s tables, but serving others and trusting God’s timing. And third, it means extending hospitality: opening our tables, our homes, our church doors, and our hearts to those who may never repay us. This is what it means to live as people of the kingdom. At the Table of Grace, we are all guests—and we are also called to become hosts, welcoming others with the same generosity that God has shown us. May we live as humble guests and gracious hosts, pointing the world to the great banquet of God’s kingdom, where there will always be room for one more.

Based on Luke 13:10–17

Introduction

This morning we meet a woman who has been bent over for eighteen years—nearly two decades of looking down, never seeing the faces of her loved ones, carrying shame and pain with her everywhere she went.

She wasn’t looking for Jesus. But Jesus was looking for her.

And in four simple movements, the gospel unfolds:

Jesus sees. Jesus calls. Jesus touches. Jesus frees.

That is not only her story—it’s ours.

1. Jesus Sees

Luke tells us: “When Jesus saw her…” That’s where it all begins.

The woman doesn’t shout out or push her way through the crowd. She had probably grown used to being overlooked. Some may have whispered that her condition was a punishment from God. She was invisible to them—but not to Jesus.

Friends, this is good news. Before we can ever call out to Him, Jesus sees us. He sees our hurts, our fears, our hidden struggles. He sees those whom the world ignores: the elderly who feel forgotten, immigrants navigating a strange land, the poor carrying heavy burdens, the young person battling anxiety.

And as His church, we are called to open our eyes as well. Who around us feels unseen? Who is bent over by life’s weight? Healing begins when we notice.

2. Jesus Calls

But Jesus does more than see—He speaks. “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”

Notice what He does: He calls her forward in the middle of the synagogue. This woman, who had probably lived in the shadows, is brought to the center. She is given dignity and a voice.

Jesus not only sees us—He calls us by name. He doesn’t leave us where we are; He invites us closer.

And He calls us, His people, to speak life and hope into others. Think of the power of a kind word—an encouragement that reminds someone of their worth.

3. Jesus Touches

And His words are not empty—He reaches out with a touch. Jesus lays His hands on her.

The healing is not distant. It is personal, compassionate, embodied.

So many in our world are starved for kindness and genuine connection. Jesus touches us still—through prayer, through the sacraments of baptism and communion, through the caring hands of His people.

When we hug someone who is grieving, when we hold the hand of the sick, when we serve with love—we become the hands of Christ.

The church is not just a place of words, but of touch, presence, and care.

4. Jesus Frees

And His touch leads to freedom.

Immediately, the woman stands up straight and begins praising God. What a moment!

Jesus reframes the Sabbath here. The leaders are upset because He healed on the Sabbath, but Jesus insists: the Sabbath is about freedom, about restoration. What better day to set someone free?

At the heart of God’s kingdom is freedom—freedom from sin, from fear, from shame, from everything that bends us down.

Let me ask: what keeps you bent over today?

• Is it guilt from the past?

• Is it worry about the future?

• Is it a heavy burden you feel you can’t share?

Christ still frees us. And He calls us, His church, to join in His work of liberation—not binding people with more burdens, but setting them free.

Conclusion

The story ends in praise. The woman’s healing becomes worship.

This is the gospel in motion: Jesus sees. Jesus calls. Jesus touches. Jesus frees. And our response is thanksgiving.

Let us stand tall in God’s grace, and with the woman in the synagogue, lift our voices to praise God.