Text:  Luke 13:22-30                                                                                 W 14th Sunday after Pentecost


 

Putting the Squeeze on You


 

            Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.  Dear Christian friends, last week at the start of the sermon, I warned you that the message I was about to deliver was going to get personal.  You may have noticed that pastors tend to do that. Instead of always railing against “those sinners over there” who are involved in all kinds of evil practices which are described in lurid detail, they focus their attention closer to home – right into the pew you’re sitting in.  Oh, they may start with clearly observable examples of a particular sin that are seen in the actions of “somebody else over there”; but they always manage to redirect the finger of accusation by showing you that your own behavior, though perhaps in ways less outwardly obvious, is every bit as blameworthy.

 

Of course, that really is the whole point of a well-crafted sermon:  to make a scriptural text address you individually so that you can experience a life changing encounter with the powerful Word of God.  It doesn’t do just to talk about the failings of others and God’s grace to them in Christ; no, God’s Word must engage you personally, both to accuse you of sin, and then when you see your guilt and rightly feel some level of distress in fear of God’s judgments, to direct you to the Savior who took God’s judgments against you on himself and in whom through faith you have forgiveness and life.  So a preacher’s goal is to apply some pressure, put a “spiritual squeeze” on you, you might say.  And I don’t mean the way some TV preachers put the squeeze on your wallet, but rather the pressure is to be applied to your conscience precisely so that you seek to find rescue from your distress and assurance of your forgiveness in Jesus, for only in him can you be released.

 

And if a preacher does that for you – causes you to desire to be closer to Jesus your Savior and to receive the forgiveness he attained for you on the cross – then he’s doing what he should.  It’s how Jesus himself dealt with people during his ministry, and today’s Gospel reading in a good case in point.

 

            We find Jesus on his way to Jerusalem some time in what’s considered the second phase of his earthly ministry.  This was the time when more and more he was encountering the opposition of his enemies and, it’s sad to say, also experiences a large number of defections from the ranks of the broader circle of his disciples.  Leaving him were people who had flocked to him in the early days of his ministry.  They had been impressed by his miracles and inspired by his teaching, and they had set out to follow him with good intentions.  They wanted be part of the kingdom of God he was always talking about.  They had great expectations and anticipated quick rewards.  But as time went on, they got discouraged.  Things weren’t happening quickly enough for them.  Life on the road was tough and uncertain, and lacked the creature comforts of home.  And with increasing regularity, some of the things Jesus said while teaching really offended them.  These disillusioned souls turned back and returned to where they came from, leaving a small and ever shrinking group of faithful disciples with the Lord.

 

It is in this context that an unnamed disciple who was still sticking with him asks Jesus the question, “Lord, are only a few going to be saved?” It would seem to be a legitimate concern.  “There doesn’t seem to be very many of us left” – not in those days when the question was asked, and not today either.  So, he wonders, what about them?  What about those who start following Jesus and then run out of gas? —The ones who so eagerly started down the path with us but have since fallen away?  In the same spirit we Lutherans today might ask about those who were confirmed once upon a time, but then go through their whole lives never even thinking about darkening the door of a church again.  And since we’re asking questions, what about those to whom Jesus comes but who never even start to follow him? And what about those who have never heard of Jesus?  Are they all going to be lost?  Is it only a few that will make to the final goal?

 

You may recall that at one point in his ministry not long before this episode, when there was a rather large falling away of his followers, that Jesus turned to his closest disciples and asked them, “Are you guys going to leave me too?”  It was Peter who spoke up for them and said, ”Lord, there’s no one else to whom we can go. You have the words of eternal life.” So saying, Peter correctly identified Jesus himself as the “narrow door” – the one through whom all those who will live forever must pass.  There is no other way – as Jesus himself also declared when he said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except by me.”

 

And you probably know that this claim of our Lord Jesus to be the exclusive Savior and the only narrow door that leads to life is a huge offense to those who are outside the faith.  “How dare you Christians think that you have a monopoly on truth!  How can you imagine that yours is the only path to heaven?” I’m sure you’ve heard similar comments. But when we say that Christ alone is the world’s Redeemer, we are only saying what God has declared in his holy Word. We don’t make up his words; we merely repeat them.

 

But even this is too much for some people who, though they call themselves Christian, aren’t willing to accept the fact that those who do not trust in Christ won’t be saved.  They are forever trying to imagine special cases or different avenues by which it might be possible to be saved apart from faith in Christ.  One such scheme is the “just pagan” theory.  It supposes that some people, even though they don’t know Jesus, are good enough on their own for God to accept without any need for Christ and his sacrifice for sin.  The problem with this is that it denies everything the Bible says about the fallen condition of mankind.  Another way people try to make allowances for non-Christians to reach heaven is by what they call the Lord’s consideration of how they responded to “the light they have given”.  The idea is that God reveals himself to all people to some degree – it’s just that some receive more of the revelation, more details, more accurate information. What matters is not what you believe or how much has been revealed to you, but rather what you do with the revelation God has given you.  If you do your part, that is, a commensurate amount of response to match whatever you’ve received, well, then everything will work out in the end.  A similar idea is what’s called the “anonymous Christian” theory.  The basic notion is that because there is only one God, and because the only way to approach him is through Jesus Christ, then every attempt to worship a god, regardless of what you call him or believe about him, is in fact the worship of the one true God through Christ.  So everyone who worships something he calls a god really is a Christian – it’s just that most of them don’t know it.  The problems with both of these attempts to widen the “narrow door” are too numerous to name.  Suffice it to say that both deny the clear Word of God.  That, and because both schemes are ultimately dependent upon what people do rather than what they believe, both are based in Law, the works of men, rather than Gospel which is the work of Christ.  And as Scripture says, “By the works of the Law no one will be saved.”  I have to say that someone who calls himself a Christian and yet who believes that salvation is attainable apart from faith in Christ really doesn’t understand what Christianity is.

 

Knowing this though, that so many don’t know Christ, and that so many who do know him – or rather who knew him at one time and have since fallen away – we too might wonder with the man in today’s Gospel reading and want to ask whether the number of those who are saved will be only a few.

 

But notice how Jesus answers the question.  Instead of directing the man to think about all those folks “over there” who won’t make it, he turns the question around and puts it right back on him: “What about you?  Will you be one of the saved?”  You see, the question seems to make the rather smug assumption that “I’m okay; it’s the rest of those folks I’m wondering about”. Jesus challenges the first assumption and directs us to examine our own faith.  He says, “You are to make every effort to enter through the narrow door.  For many will be trying to get in; but when the owner of the house rises up and closes the door, you will be standing outside pleading your case.”

 

And the word Jesus uses that is translated, “make every effort” is the Greek word from which in English we get word “agony”.  And the tense it’s in carries the sense of ongoing action.  So what he really says there is “keep on agonizing to get through the narrow door.”  It suggests that the door is a very tight fit – that you have to keep squeezing yourself to get through it.  And this makes sense with what was said earlier: how God uses his Law to put the squeeze on us, and how that pressure forces us to Christ and the gifts of grace and forgiveness he earned for us on the cross.  The idea is that it’s a continuing process.  In this life we’re always to be squeezing to get through the door.  The agonizing doesn’t stop until death.  And if in this life we get to the point when we can say, “Whew, I’m glad I made it – but gosh, what about them?” we’re in danger of being lost ourselves through misplaced overconfidence.

 

            That too is evident in the illustration Jesus gives. When he describes those who are pounding on the door begging for entry, it’s clear that they thought they knew Jesus. “We used to eat with you.  You taught in our streets.”  He’s not talking about “anonymous Christians” here, or about people who have no interest in spiritual matters; he’s talking about people who think they are Christians.  They’re surprised to find themselves on the outside.  They’re saying “We know you, Jesus”; but he’s replying, “But I don’t know you.”  Why? Well let me suggest that it’s because somewhere along the way they figured they had it made, and so stopped agonizing to get through the narrow door.  They stopped fearing God’s judgments and so stopped relying on Christ’s sacrifice for sin.

 

            Allow me give you two practical examples of this; one that deals with “those guys over there”, and one that’s closer to home. First, take the Episcopal Church in this country.  And let me preface these remarks by saying that there are many faithful Christians in the Episcopal Church.  I do not presume to judge the faith of any individual.  But I am – we are all – called upon to evaluate the doctrine and public practice of churches.  And sadly, like so many mainline protestant churches, the Episcopal Church in America is now known more for what it denies about the traditional Christian faith than what it believes and teaches about it.  It is more concerned with social issues than with questions of man’s sin and God’s grace and forgiveness in Christ.  The Jesus it teaches – and again, not universally; but in most places – is more of an ancient do-gooder whose philosophy of love and kindness is to be imitated rather than a Savior from sin.  It’s possible to openly deny the virgin birth of Jesus, his deity, his miracles, his sacrificial death, and his resurrection and still be a member in good standing.  You can even deny all that and teach at their seminaries – it’s actually preferred.  My point is that if you were to ask any of the Episcopalians who deny all these things whether they were Christians and whether they were going to be saved in the end, they would emphatically say yes to both.  They would be insulted that you asked.  How do I know?  Well, the truth is that the Episcopal Church in Africa is decidedly more faithful to traditional Christianity.  They’re horrified with what they see as decline of the Episcopal Church here.  They’ve gone so far as to send missionaries to America to attempt to turn things around.  Of course the leaders of the church here are infuriated and many people are insulted.  “Who ever heard of missionaries from Africa?  They’re just primitives who live in mud huts!  What do they know?  What can they possibly tell us?”  The truth is that they know Jesus the Lord and Savior, and what they can tell is how to get through the narrow door.  And I think this is a classic example of what Jesus describes in the text.  People pounding on the door thinking they should be inside, and watching in despair while others they believe to be less worthy are going in.

 

            But like I said, it doesn’t do us any good to talk about “those folks over there” unless it’s to heighten our awareness so that we can better study our own sins and shortcomings.  So let’s bring it closer to home and look at our own Lutheran Church Missouri Synod.  There is currently in our church body an increasing emphasis on missions.  We keep being told, “it’s up to us to get out there and spread the Gospel to all those poor lost souls.”  And please don’t misunderstand me:  missions are important.  The love and forgiveness we know in Christ Jesus compels us to want to share him with others.  The problem that’s arisen more recently is one over-emphasis.  Missions, some are telling us, has got to be our top three priorities:  it’s missions, missions, missions to the exclusion of just about everything else – except raising more money for missions.  Meanwhile our concerns about true doctrine, appropriate practice, personal growth in Christ – these things can all be allowed to slide and get sloppy as long as we’re getting the message out there.  And if you express some concern about just how sloppy doctrine and practice are getting, well, then you’re accused of being anti-mission-minded. You’re fixated on incessant internal purification.  You do not love your neighbors for whom Christ died.

 

              There are some real dangers here.  First, you can’t help but notice that a certain self-righteousness tends to creep in. I’m all for missions.  I’m the one doing the Lord’s work.  I’m bringing lost souls to Christ.  You, on the other hand, aren’t doing enough.  You should be evangelizing more, giving more to support missions, trying to be more seeker sensitive”, and so on.  Listen:  in the Christian Church if there is more emphasis on what you do rather than in whom you believe, you can be certain that things are backwards.  But secondly, I want you to see that placing all emphasis on missions is again a focus on “those guys over there” rather than on your own agonizing to squeeze through the narrow door.  Such an emphasis starts with the assumption, “I’m in.  For me the agonizing is over.  It’s everyone else I’m worried about.”  And as we’ve seen this morning, that smug assumption is the problem.

 

            But now, like St. Paul, let me show you a better way.  It’s said of some people that they do their best work while under pressure, and let me suggest that for a Christian that’s always true. That is to say it is precisely when we’re squeezing through the narrow door, when we’re digging more deeply into God’s Word, seeing our sins and repenting of them in godly fear, and receiving Christ’s forgiveness that we are being forged and shaped into the kinds of tools that God uses to do his work.  If you’re serious about missions, the place to begin is not out there with the lost, but right here in your own sinful heart.  Your desire to share the Gospel will then come of the ever-increasing joy you know in Christ and his love rather from a sense of duty or obligation.

 

            My friends, the question of whether the number of the saved will be many or few is not of primary importance.  The real question is more personal; it’s “will you be one of them?” Keeping your focus there – and so allowing the Lord to put the squeeze on you – is the way to ensure that you are one who stays in Christ and therefore passes through him who is the narrow door.  And because Christians do their best work under that kind of pressure, because at those times more than any other it’s Christ who is working through them, you can be sure that the Lord will accomplish his mission through you, and then when his work in you is done, bring you at last to his heavenly glory. May God grant it to us for Jesus sake. Amen.

 


Soli Deo Gloria!

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