The Pharisee & the Tax Collector

Luke 18:10-14

 “Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, and the other a cheating tax collector. 11 The proud Pharisee ‘prayed’ this prayer: ‘Thank God, I am not a sinner like everyone else, especially like that tax collector over there! For I never cheat, I don’t commit adultery, 12 I go without food twice a week, and I give to God a tenth of everything I earn.’

13 “But the corrupt tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed, but beat upon his chest in sorrow, exclaiming, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’ 14 I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home forgiven! For the proud shall be humbled, but the humble shall be honored.”

Meet the Pharisee:

I had it all together. I had shaped myself to be the ultimate Pharisee–the Pharisees of the Pharisees. I understood the Law; I could quote whole books, forward and backward. I fasted twice a week, and tithed everything, right down to my herbs and spices. I had it all together.

And I made sure everyone saw my commitment.

I strenuously kept God’s Law. I was consumed by understanding it, I tried to grasp all its nuances and complexity. The 10 commandments were emblazoned on all that I did. I wanted everyone to know that I was one of “the pure ones,” for that was the meaning behind the word Pharisee. I knew that I was pure.

I went to the Temple every day to pray, I stood holy and set apart, standing before a real and holy God. I was always the truest example to the people of Israel. I always stood when I prayed, for I was completely committed to doing all that the Law demanded of me.

One day I saw a wicked man in God’s holy temple. I had to thank God that we were total opposites. He was a tax collector and an evil person. I really was nothing like him. I rejoiced that I had become a true example of a righteous man.

I knew I was righteous, and certainly not at all like that sinful tax collector.

———————-

Meet the Tax Collector:

I didn’t have it all together. I understood this and was horrified that I had become so evil. I came to the Temple, driven by my guilt and shame–no one had to tell me this, for I knew my sin and I was deeply ashamed.

Why I came, I don’t know. I honestly didn’t belong here, and I kept a distance from the front. I guess that’s where I belonged. On the fringes before the Holy One. It seemed now that I was drawn to this place, and I’m still not sure why I came that day.

I knew that I breathed evil and had become evil.

I fell to my knees, and I begged God to forgive me. I saw the Pharisee standing in the presence of God, but I knew I wasn’t at all like him. He was righteous and I knew I was not. Oh, how I wanted God to forgive me for all the sins I had committed.

I must tell you that my spirit was in agony.

“Humble men are very fortunate!” he told them, “for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them. Those who mourn are fortunate! for they shall be comforted. The meek and lowly are fortunate! for the whole wide world belongs to them.

Matthew 5:3-5, LB

Jesus clearly told us who was truly forgiven that day. When we think we have it all together, we’re deceiving ourselves.

Let’s not pretend otherwise, okay.

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Art: Eugene Burnand, 1850-1924, litho; Scripture used here is from the Living Bible.

Is Jesus Your Friend, or Just a Doctrine?

“A rule I have had for years is: to treat the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal friend. His is not a creed, a mere doctrine, but it is He Himself we have.”

  ~D.L. Moody

Friendship with God can be quite liberating for the believer. It releases us from the terrible bondage of religion and ritual with all its negative connotations. Intimacy with our Lord will carry us beyond creed or doctrine to the place of true communion. We fellowship with Him directly in person.

It’s not that the Law is bad, but in the intense light of God’s love, it’s a poor substitute for real discipleship. We often put an undue value on rules and religious effort, but that misses out on grace completely. Doctrine is a good servant, but it’s a poor master.

God’s grace always trumps our legalism. Love truly surpasses rules, without breaking them.

As good evangelicals, we can talk big about “a personal relationship.” That is indeed crucial. But few are the believers that walk in a daily friendship with their Savior, and that is truly a tragedy.

As a teacher of God’s Word, I mourn over my students when they miss out on what is real and true. I’m afraid for them. They haven’t come to the place of being a friend of Jesus.

John 15:15, ESV

Friendship with Jesus will bring true guidance. He shares secrets and wisdom with his friends. We are brought into a true knowledge of the Kingdom through companionship with the King. We are not slaves– or drones, slavishly serving out of fear. We are His confidantes.

We’re His friends!

Jesus wants to confide in us; sharing wisdom and truth hidden by time and sin. And his kingdom is chock full of great mysteries! He is looking to bring us into the willingness of daily communion. I believe its only through intimacy with Jesus can we handle what He wants to teach us. (see Psalm 25:14; John 15:15.) We will simply short-circuit if we’re not intimate with Him.

He will heal our wounds, and forgive all our sins. He is truly our Savior as well as our friend.

But that friendship comes with a price. It means we are now tethered to the Lord. That can get old, especially when I want to do my own thing. It seems I will continually have to lay something down and choose to accept being bonded with Him, and to always follow.

But my soul now has a best friend. Or just maybe, Jesus has been my friend all along, and I just didn’t know it.

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Listen Closely to Matthew

“He went out again beside the sea, and all the crowd was coming to him, and he was teaching them. 14 And as he passed by, he saw Levi the son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he rose and followed him.

“And Levi jumped to his feet and went along.”

Mark 2:13-14, ESV

My name is Levi, and I once collected taxes for Rome. It was a very good living–it’s funny, but my parents chose my name– “Gift of God.” They were pious Jews who dreamed I would be more than I was. I sometimes wonder. Did they understand what Jesus was calling me to become?

As a tax collector, I was considered unclean. A very small step above a leper I guess. The Temple was off-limits for me; so I never had any sacrifice for my many sins. I carried my guilt like a heavy jacket on a hot day–some would say that God turned His back on me. I was seen as a collaborator, a betrayer of my people. I had been excommunicated forever.

Do you know what it’s like to be one of the damned?

My friends were sinners like me. In some dark way we understood each other, for we were all outcasts. Some of us were thieves, drunkards, and whores. Some of us were blind or disabled–all were undesirables. We became the community of those damned to hell.

My tax booth was situated at a crossroads, the ideal spot for collecting taxes. No one carrying goods could get by–they had to pay me first. I soon became wealthy, and unfortunately, very recognizable (which was dangerous). I had Roman guards that protected me.

There were times I wondered if that was all my life was good for, collecting coins for Rome.

Jesus was teaching near my booth one day.

I listened to Him closely. I prided myself as a good judge of character, I knew when someone was lying–my business taught me that. I immediately knew that I had never seen or heard anyone quite like Him.

Jesus quickly turned and stared directly at me. My heart stopped. I felt His eyes searching and I realized that He looked through me. He knew exactly who and what I was all about, and that unnerved me. I wasn’t seeing Him, rather it was He that saw me.

“Come, follow me.”

Suddenly I knew that all I attained in my business was a big pile of nothingness. I can never get over the shock of those words– Jesus, the Messiah wanted me. He had put His call on me, someone who was very much lost.

Why me? Who am I?

To follow wasn’t negotiable. I looked down at the silver and gold and realized they were nothing but piles of dirt. I left the coins on the table and walked away. If anything, I was sickened by my world of money.

I have never questioned that moment. What would you have done in my place but follow Him?

We had a grand going-away party that night. I of course invited all my disreputable friends. The rooms quickly filled up with whores, drunks, and the outcasts. Jesus shared many wonderful things with us. Never had anyone love us like Him.

We had never experienced this before!

Mark 2:15-17, ESV

The Pharisees were absolutely livid. They began to verbally rebuke Jesus and His disciples for setting down to eat and fellowship with us. In their minds we were the damned. My home was unclean, my family unclean–we were all filthy.

But that was not the way Jesus saw us. He loved us when nobody else would.

alaskabibleteacher.com

Photo: “Matthew, the Chosen”

Is Jesus Your Best Friend, or a Doctrine?

 

“A rule I have had for years is: to treat the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal friend. His is not a creed, a mere doctrine, but it is He Himself we have.”

  ~D.L. Moody

Friendship with God is a liberating secret for the believer. It releases us from the terrible bondage of religion and ritual with all its negative connotations. Intimacy with our Lord will carry us beyond creed or doctrine to the place of true communion.

It’s not that the Law is bad, but in the intense light of God’s grace, it’s really a very poor substitute. We value legalism, and that is precisely what we believe when we bypass the relationship. Doctrine is a good servant, but a poor master.

Grace always overcomes legalism. Love truly surpasses rules.

As good evangelicals, we talk big about a “personal relationship.” That is indeed crucial. But few be the believers that walk in a daily friendship with their Savior. That is truly a tragedy. We come oh so close, but we misunderstand the depth of the Gospel.

As a teacher of God’s Word, I mourn over my students when they miss out on what is real and true. I’m afraid for them. I’m also scared that I may just be adding to their confusion. The issue can be seen in Paul’s concern for the church in Corinth.

“I no longer call you slaves, because a master doesn’t confide in his slaves. Now you are my friends since I have told you everything the Father told me.”

John 15:15, NLT

Friendship with Jesus will bring true guidance. He shares secrets and wisdom with his friends. We are brought into a true knowledge of the Kingdom through the relationship of friendship with the King. We are not slaves– or drones, slavishly serving out of slavish fear.

We’re now His friends! (Imagine that.)

Jesus wants to confide in us; sharing wisdom and truth hidden by time and sin. And his kingdom is chock full of great mysteries! He is looking to bring us into a willingness of daily communion. Only through intimacy with Jesus can we handle what He wants to teach us. (see Psalm 25:14; John 15:15.)

He will heal our wounds, and forgive all our darkest sins. He is truly our Savior as well as our friend.

But friendship comes with a price. It means we are now tethered to the Lord. That can get old, especially when I want to do my own thing. I will continually have to lay something down and choose to accept being tethered and follow Him.

But my soul now has a best friend. Or just maybe, Jesus has been my friend all along, and I just didn’t know it.

 

The Older Brother Syndrome

Luke 15:25-32

25-27 “All this time his older son was out in the field. When the day’s work was done he came in. As he approached the house, he heard the music and dancing. Calling over one of the houseboys, he asked what was going on. He told him, ‘Your brother came home. Your father has ordered a feast—barbecued beef!—because he has him home safe and sound.’

28-30 “The older brother stomped off in an angry sulk and refused to join in. His father came out and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. The son said, ‘Look how many years I’ve stayed here serving you, never giving you one moment of grief, but have you ever thrown a party for me and my friends? Then this son of yours who has thrown away your money on whores shows up and you go all out with a feast!’

31-32 “His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours—but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he’s alive! He was lost, and he’s found!’”

I hated him. I know I shouldn’t but I did. He betrayed all of us with his nonsense. It all started when he demanded that our father immediately divide up our inheritance. Strange I know. It was a shock, like a punch in the stomach. No one knew what to say, it was so bizarre. I have no idea where this idea came from.

He insisted that we divide things up right this instant. He didn’t have the decency to wait for our father’s funeral. It was such a shameful thing that I couldn’t begin to tell you how mortified I was. No one ever heard of anything happening like this before. Even now, after these many years, I can hardly talk about it.

My father simply did what was asked, there was no argument, no resistance.

The property was appraised, and the money was divided up according to custom. We sat at the kitchen table, and the ass watched to make sure that he received every penny that was coming to him. His hungry greed was beyond belief. He oozed arrogance–it was then I really began to hate him.

Never ever had I been so angry and ashamed.

My younger brother never even batted an eye and my father simply did what was asked. My brother didn’t even have the decency to say “thank you.” I desperately wanted to leave, and I couldn’t. I had to be there, and I felt like I was going to throw up.

Enough of that. Let’s move on.

That ass, that brother of mine, suddenly packed up and left. Oh, occasionally I heard of his escapades. There were awful reports of his drunkenness and whoring. He was spending our father’s money as if it would never going to run out. Even talking about it now makes me angry.

The last I had heard was he was now feeding pigs. He had spent every last dime and now it seems he was getting what he deserved. I didn’t shed a tear, I felt no pity. Good, he was getting what he should have gotten all along. I only wished that things would get even worse.

Coming in from the fields I heard a raucous party coming from the house.

I asked one of the servants what was going on. When they told me I was even more shocked. Our father had arranged a celebration, all because my brother had returned. The fatted calf had been killed, the one that was saved for parties, and I heard shouts of joy and dancing. They were celebrating, and that made no sense to me at all.

I had served the estate faithfully, I had sweated to make things work, and I never got a party like this.

My father came out to find me, I had hidden out in a shed–I didn’t want to be a part of this awful charade. When he found me he said that the party had to happen. It seems the scoundrel had the audacity to return–the money was spent, and apparently, he came home in rags–it served him right. He got what he deserved.

He told me that this celebration must happen.

My mind reeled. Could things get even crazier? Never had I heard of anything so bizarre. It was beyond belief. My father wanted me to come in and join them; I’d rather die. You have no idea.

He kept telling me that this had to happen–apparently he was given a new robe, and worst of all he was given the family ring, the ring that declared that he was now a full-fledged son, someone who could have all of the privilege and authority of a son. I had never heard of such foolishness.

My father said this was necessary, that my brother who I hoped was dead, was now alive.

How bad could things get? Perhaps my father had lost his mind.

“Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.”

Luke 15:7

Painting: “The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt, c. 1667, oil on canvas. This picture shown is a small part. Scripture is The Message, a translation by Eugene Peterson.

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