Text:  Luke 7:1-10  (Galatians 1:1-10)                                                           W 2^nd Sunday after Pentecost

Amazing Faith

            In the name of him who saved us with his own precious blood, dear brothers and sisters in Christ:  Our Lord Jesus is one amazing fellow.  Now, I know you knew that; but what I mean is that as we read the accounts of his earthly ministry, over and over again we are told that people were constantly amazed at the things he said and did.  Even though he was the long-expected Messiah, rarely, if ever, was he what people were expecting.  They were usually surprised at the things he taught and filled with wonder at the miracles he performed.  And that really should strike us as rather strange because he only taught from the Holy Scriptures and did the things that the Scripture said the Messiah would do. If they had been reading their Scriptures, and they were, they should not have been surprised at all because he was exactly what had been promised.  But what we find instead is that the people were always amazed at him, which indicates that the people never really understood what they read, or if they understood it, they didn’t really believe it. But for one reason or the other (or perhaps both) they were always surprised and amazed by Jesus.

            For his own part, however, Scripture records that on two occasions it was Jesus who was amazed.  The first time was in his own hometown of Nazareth.  He had already launched his teaching and healing ministry in Galilee, and word of the great things he was doing was spreading throughout the region.  When he came into town, it was only natural that they would ask their now famous native son to teach in the synagogue when the Sabbath came – and we are told that they were amazed with what he said.  They were thrilled by both the wisdom of his teaching and the mighty miracles he did; but even so, they rejected him out of hand.  “You’re amazing, all right, but you couldn’t possibly be the Messiah”, they thought, “After all, you’re just one of us.”  St. Mark tells us that Jesus was amazed at their unbelief.  How could they not see the truth?  For the better part of thirty years he had sat in the same synagogue with them as they heard about all about the promises of the coming Messiah.  And here he was, fulfilling every prophecy, one after another, in spectacular detail right in front of their eyes.  For him it was simple:  if he sounds like the Messiah, if he acts like the Messiah, then, by golly, he must be the Messiah.  Not having a sin darkened mind himself, Jesus was astonished that they could possibly fail to believe in him.

            The second time the Bible tells us that Jesus was amazed is mentioned in today’s Gospel reading.  Apparently he had gotten used to the idea that those who should have believed in him didn’t; but now he encounters a Roman centurion who, despite all his disadvantages, has amazing faith in Jesus.  This man was a Gentile who was part of the occupying army that kept all of Palestine in subjection to Rome.  And as a rule, these men were not known for their friendliness to the Jews or their sympathy to Jewish causes.  Fanatic Jewish nationalists called “zealots” waged a guerrilla war against the Romans, often resorting to terrorist tactics such as ambush, kidnapping, and assassination. To serve in this part of the empire meant living in constant fear that the man you shook hands with earlier today, who thanked you profusely when you made arrangements to repair an aging aqueduct or pave a busy trade route, was also involved in a plot to murder you while you slept.  For the most part, these Roman garrison commanders trusted no one; and for the sake of their protection and sanity they maintained a cool, and often hard and cruel, relationship with the Jews.

            But this centurion is different.  The Jewish elders hold him in high esteem, in part, because he has built them a synagogue from his own personal funds.  (And just as side comment here:  what is believed to be this synagogue has been excavated in Capernaum, and both its size and construction indicate that he was quite generous in funding the project.)  And it seems that the reason he spent all this money was not simply to curry favor with the local populace and thus increase his chances for survival. The synagogue elders say, “He loves our nation.”  The comment speaks volumes.  Having served overseas, I know it’s common for a soldier to pick up a few cultural habits that he admires in the people among whom he serves in a foreign land; but this man seems to have gone beyond that.  If we add up what we know about him, we are safe in assuming that he was a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and that he too had read and studied the Old Testament Scriptures.  In them he had found a fulfilling answer to the nagging emptiness of his heart that his pagan religion could not begin to fill.  In the Jewish Scriptures he had found a personal, loving God far different than the far away, bickering gods and goddesses of Mt. Olympus who only used humans for their own advantage or pleasure.  Through the Scripture, this foreigner had discovered the God who dwells on earth to help and to save his people.  This centurion’s commendable acts of love and generosity flowed out of a grateful heart because he had come to the knowledge of the true God.

            And all of this gave him a unique perspective from which to view the person and work of Jesus Christ.  He counted himself especially blessed not only because he had come to the true faith, but also because he was among the generation chosen to witness the unfolding of God’s plan of salvation.  Doubtlessly, as the reports of Jesus’ ministry were being spread around, he checked each detail and new bit of information against the Scriptures that had come to mean so much to him.  And it led him to the inescapable conclusion that this man Jesus was the promised Messiah.  He knew that he was blessed in seeing what multitudes of faithful Jews had for centuries been hoping and praying for.

            And we see ample evidence that this centurion’s faith influenced the way he lived his life by his remarkable concern for one of his slaves.  Understand that in his day the life of a slave was usually very hard and very short. Most slave owners rarely gave a second thought about the well-being of their slaves; but we’re told that he highly valued this one.  The indication is not so much that he was concerned about the financial loss he was going to suffer if and when the slave died; instead it’s that he counted this slave as a member of his household – more like a son than a servant.  In fact, there’s something of a parallel between the way this centurion thinks of his slave, who was probably someone captured in a war – a former enemy – and who was now a beloved member of his house, and the way he thinks of himself with respect to God:  a former Gentile pagan now a beloved member of God’s household. His concern for this slave compels him to petition the man he now knows to be the Messiah for help – but he dare not go himself and make the request.  He counts himself unworthy even to ask Jesus for mercy.  So instead he asks some Jewish elders to go on his behalf, requesting that Jesus come and heal the dying slave – but then later, when he hears that Jesus is coming, he is filled with uneasiness to think that the world’s Savior would interrupt his busy schedule to personally come and attend the prayer of one poor Gentile soldier.  So he sends friends to dissuade Jesus from taking so much of his precious time:  “No need to bother with me; only say the word, and I know that my servant will be healed”.

            And we read that Jesus is utterly astonished at this simple confession of faith. This man has never seen Jesus, never witnessed a miracle; he isn’t even one of God’s chosen race – yet he believes more firmly than anyone Jesus has yet encountered. Jesus turns to the crowd following him and essentially asks them, “You have all the advantages.  Why don’t you believe like that?”

            We are given the answer.  It lies in the difference between the attitude of centurion and that of the Jewish elders he has sent.  And the difference is this:  the centurion considers himself to be completely unworthy of Jesus’ help; but strangely enough, the elders of the Jews base their appeal to Jesus on what they perceive to be the man’s worthiness.  They say, “This man deserves to have you do this because of the things he has done for us.”  In their minds, a man is qualified for the Lord’s mercy by what he does.  They allow that even a lowly Gentile, if he does something sufficiently favorable for God’s chosen people, deserves a little bit of pity.  But notice the authority they assume for themselves: how they consider themselves to be the appointed judges of what Jesus should and should not do, and whether someone is deserving of his assistance.  “He’s okay, Jesus, after all, he’s been good to us.  We give him our stamp of approval.”  But then they are elders of God’s special people, aren’t they?  And are they not descendants of Abraham?  Are they not heirs of the promises?  Don’t they keep the commands of Moses?  Are they not faithful followers of the covenant? Are they not now faithfully following Jesus?   ... No, not even close.  Just because they happen to be walking behind Jesus does not mean that they are following him, because their hearts are far away from him.  They see themselves as following the Messiah they deserve, not the Savior they need.

            This is the danger to God’s people of all ages, including us.  We know we become Christians – followers of Jesus – by God’s grace working within us that causes us to recognize our sin and our own utter helplessness, and to cling by faith to the unmerited gift of salvation in Jesus Christ.  But that whole perspective casts us in the role of beggars who are completely dependent on God’s mercy – and that doesn’t sit too well with us.  So just as soon as we feel the relief the Gospel brings, we immediately try to rebuild our bruised egos by showing God, and everyone else, that he made the right choice in choosing to save us – that somehow we deserved his favor in the first place.  We do it in many different ways:  one person by throwing himself into the work and support of the church, another by devoting herself to noble causes in the community, still another, by avoiding the church altogether, proudly slapping himself on the back for his faith that’s so strong that it doesn’t need built up through worship, Christian fellowship, and Bible study.  However we do it, and we all do, it amounts to an abandonment of the faith that rescued us in the first place.  It’s absolutely amazing that we so quickly want to let go of God’s grace and try to stand on our own worth. 

That’s precisely what Paul writes to the Galatians in this morning’s Epistle lesson:  “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you by the grace of Christ and are turning to a different Gospel – which is really no Gospel at all.”   That’s the “gospel” of self-merit, the “gospel” that says you deserve to be saved because of what you do or because of what you have chosen to believe.  Either way, it is no Gospel at all, because it’s about what you do or don’t do, and that means that it puts you back under the law –– and as such, it makes you a dying slave of the law because no matter how hard you try, you cannot keep it.

            But even more amazing than our insane urge to let go of the true Gospel, is that our Lord Jesus values us highly, even though we do not deserve it.  And though we are not fit to have him come under our roof, he graciously agrees to come to rescue the dying slaves.  In fact, he’s promised to do it whenever we call on his name.  In the Old Testament lesson King Solomon asked, “But will God really dwell on earth?  The heavens ... cannot contain you.  How much less this temple I have built.”  He couldn’t imagine God coming down to live with men. And yet, as incredible as it seems, he came not only to live with men, but to live with men as a man.  He set aside all his heavenly glory to take on our fallen flesh – not in the role of a mighty king or powerful leader like he deserved; but in the role of a servant.   And in that role he helped people in need – in every need, including (and most importantly) our greatest need.  To save us from sin he made himself a dying slave to our sin.  That’s the cornerstone of our amazing faith.

            And equally amazing is that he comes to us here in this place, right under this roof, every week to speak his word by which we are healed. That’s all it takes.  His word carries his authority and power, and accomplishes what he intends it to.  The centurion believed that, and Jesus Christ commended him for his amazing faith.  And so today we come to Jesus to be healed of all our sins, including our self-deceiving tendency to overturn his true Gospel in favor of the false gospel of personal merit.  Today the Lord who gave himself to rescue us is answering this prayer.  He does it by announcing our forgiveness and sending us the Holy Spirit by which he places in our hearts the amazing faith of the centurion.

            What’s more, he will keep us in this faith as in complete humility we continue to rely on his mercy.  And in response, from our grateful hearts filled with the joy of salvation will flow the acts of love and generosity the Lord desires – not done to deserve his mercy or to repay him for his kindness, but to naturally reflect the love he has given us.  In this way we will show forth in our lives the amazing faith he’s placed in our hearts, so that the fruit of faith will be amazing as the faith itself.  May our gracious Father bring it to completion in us through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria!