Our Sermons

Bible Passage: Luke 13:22-30
Pastor: Pastor Schlicht
Sermon Date:  September 15, 2019

It’s said that a pastor’s job in preaching is both to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. He should comfort those weighed down by sin and fear, but afflict those who have grown dangerously comfortable in taking their salvation for granted. Where are you this morning? Do you need to be afflicted or comforted? I wonder if we often think about what a sermon from God’s Word should actually do to us. People have a lot of ideas about what makes a good sermon. A lot of ideas of what they should feel or what they should take away. And I’m sure being comforted is often on the list. But who would ever say, today I want to be afflicted. I want my presumptions to be challenged. I want to hear something that does not reinforce the attitude I came in with. But Jesus’ words always cut some down and lifted others up. He always exalted the humble and humbled the exalted. And his words today in Luke 13 bring about that same reversal, the same mix of comfort and affliction. So I pray that the Holy Spirit would work a willingness in you to be affected in whatever way is necessary for the growth of your faith.

In Luke 13 , we catch up with Jesus as he makes his way to Jerusalem, traveling from one town to another teaching and healing the people. One day someone in the crowd asks him, Lord, are only a few going to be saved? This question was known to be a matter of debate among religious types back in Jesus’ day. Every rabbi had an opinion and this person wanted to hear what Jesus thought. It is an interesting question, but not the right question. You see, this person assumed they were already going to enter heaven due to their birthright as a descendent of Abraham, but they were curious about others. There is a disconnect between love and curiosity here. How many are going to be in heaven is not a matter of academic debate, but a matter of God’s judgment. And so Jesus answers the question not according to what was asked, but with what people most needed to hear. He gets personal. He says, Strive to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able. The person asked, “Are only a few going to be saved?” And Jesus basically answers, “Are you going to be saved?” That’s what he’s getting at. “Strive to enter the narrow door.” In other words, “Are you relying on the right thing? Are you going to enter the narrow door?

This image of a narrow door may come from the ancient synagogue. It is known that there were small and large doors in many synagogues. Different people, based upon their status in the community, entered the synagogue through various doors and were seated accordingly. For instance, the crippled woman Jesus healed earlier in the chapter, being low in social status, probably entered the synagogue via a small side entrance. This is perhaps what Jesus has in mind when he says “narrow door”. He is saying that no one is going to waltz into heaven as if they deserve to be there. No one is going to enter on account of their ethnicity, heritage, or church membership. The door to heaven is the narrow door, that spiritual cripples and beggars enter. Those who humbly approach God knowing they do not deserve to be in his presence. Those who are astonished that a narrow door is open to them at all! 

This is what I mean about a reversal. The narrow door is a reversal of unprecedented proportions. This is what Jesus goes on to illustrate: Once the master of the house gets up and shuts the door, you will begin to stand outside and knock on the door, saying, ‘Lord, open for us!’ He will tell you in reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from.’ Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ And he will say, ‘I don’t know where you come from. Depart from me, all you evildoers.’ There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, but you yourselves thrown outside. People will come from east and west, from north and south, and will recline at the table in the kingdom of God. And note this: Some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.” Those who proudly assumed they are already ‘in’ will find, to their eternal bitterness (weeping and gnashing of teeth) that they are on the outside looking in. On the other hand, those who have long been considered outcasts (i.e. the crippled woman) will joyfully find that they are in God’s kingdom. Those who entered through the narrow door will find, that once inside, they are seated at the table next to Abraham, Issac, and Jacob! Around the world, those who are least expected to enter, “from east, west, north, and south”, will be seated inside. Jesus’ statement at the end sharpens the effect: “And note this: Some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

I can’t help but think about Martin Luther, the man after whom our church is named. At the age of 62, Luther became sick and knew that he was going to die. In his last moments, he was asked by his friend Justus, “Do you want to die standing firm on Christ and the doctrine you have taught?” Luther answered, “Yes. We are beggars. This is true.” And he died right then and there entering heaven through the narrow door. For all his teaching and preaching, for his years in the monastery, for his translation of the entire Bible into the common language of the German people, for writing the catechism and multiple hymns, if anyone deserved to enter through the front door of heaven, it would be Martin Luther. Yet, when entering heaven Luther could only confess to be a beggar—a poor, undeserving person, just thankful to slip through the narrow door into the presence of God. He knew that trusting in Jesus meant nothing, if not trusting in grace 100% for his salvation. This was the truth of Scripture he fought his entire life to preserve. He had to fight, because we don’t take too well to salvation by grace alone.

That’s the same reason why Jesus had to say, “Strive to enter the narrow door.” The Greek word for “strive” is agonizomai from which we get our English word “agonize”. It has the idea of fighting or combat. Jesus knew that we have to fight to believe in God’s grace—to believe that Jesus alone is responsible for our spot in heaven, to believe that salvation IS by grace alone, not of ourselves, but the gift of God. This is the narrow door, the humble way which is distasteful to the natural pride of humanity. There’s a part of each of us offended at the idea of being spiritual beggars, isn’t there? And there are many people who are too big, too puffed up with pride and credentials. Jesus says, They will try to enter and will not be able. They won’t fit! And when the door finally shuts, they will pound on it and say, ‘Lord, open for us!’ He will tell you in reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from.’ I cannot imagine anything worse than this: to look Jesus in the face and hear him say, “I don’t know you.” This is why we have to fight to hold on to the teaching of grace alone. Because Jesus will only recognize you as his own if you recognize him as the only way to heaven. It’s  a fight not just against our own pride, but against those who want to believe that there are many doors into heaven. We live in a world where the entrance to heaven is thought to be wide, like at an amusement park or stadium, one that everybody eventually wanders through.

I’ll never forget what one woman said to me as she left a funeral I presided over. She shook my hand in the narthex. “Thanks for your message, but you know there are many ways to heaven. We’ll all get there one day, right?” she said with a little laugh. And then she turned to go, as if that was that. So I gently tapped her shoulder and I said, “I’m sorry to keep you, but that isn’t what the Bible teaches. That isn’t what Jesus taught.” Annoyance flashed across her face and she said, “Well, I go to church and my pastor doesn’t say that. We don’t believe that.” I had a bulletin in my hand and one of the readings was from John 14. I told her, “I’m not going to try to convince you with my own words, but please think about what Jesus says right here.” And I read verse 6 where Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father except through me.” “Ok I will,” she said dismissively. And I asked her, “Do you think Jesus would have died on the cross if there were other ways to heaven?” Rather reluctantly she took the bulletin, pasted on a fake smile, and hurried out the door. I remember watching her leave and saying a prayer on the spot. She didn’t know Jesus. She thought he was optional for salvation, and what’s worse is the fact that she had been taught to believe that. I still pray for her, for many who may be terribly and tragically surprised on the last day. Those who will say to Jesus, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ (We worshipped you at my church!) And he will say, ‘I don’t know where you come from. Depart from me, you evil doers. The word for evil doer is adikios, so literally translated, “Depart from me, you unjustified”. Because , regardless of how good you are in human terms, you are only  justified, declared innocent in God’s eyes, through Jesus alone. 

Have you ever wondered what people would say at your funeral? I think we all hope that people come and weep, that they see the pictures and remember the good times we had. We want them to remember the funny things, the adventures and everything in between. But what about the sermon? What would you want the pastor to talk about? I hate to say this, but I’ve heard some really bad funeral sermons. I’ve heard the preacher spend the whole time talking about the person who has passed away; they flatter them, they pretend to know them better than they did, they talk about nice things they did. And in the end, it is just more painful. People pick up on it. They know the person who died and an exaggeration of their goodness is of absolutely no comfort to their loved ones as they watch the casket lowered into the ground. Listen, I’ll tell you something: If you have your funeral at Eastside, we are going to say some nice things about you, but we will also say that you were a spiritual beggar. That may sound a little harsh to some, but what else would you want us to say than the truth? We are going to tell people that you were a beggar who is in heaven because of a love unearned, unforced, unasked which burned its way into your heart. We are going to tell them about Jesus and what he did for you. Because that’s what it’s all about! We are going to say that he loved you so much that he laid his life down to call you his own. And on the basis of his life, death, and resurrection we are confident that you entered the narrow door and are now sitting at the Master’s feast. And we are going to tell them that the door is still open, so they enter as well.

My friends, Strive to enter the narrow door! Yes, it will humble you, but it is a blessing that the door is narrow. It is a blessing because you can’t take anything in with you. Shame, guilt, sin, regret? Jesus bids you leave them at the door. They simply won’t fit. He took them on himself so that you may enter in humble confidence through his blood. And while the door is still open, invite others to enter with you. Jesus is the only way to heaven but he is open to all. You never know how God’s Word will affect someone. After all, some who are last will be first in the kingdom of God.

Amen.