The Gift of Responsibility
There are no mañana disciples. Peter gets it. He would never be one of those! Well, his heart is in the right place, but the problem is that his heart still wavers so much, just like some other people with whom you and I are well acquainted. Peter, however, is always consistent in this: he wants to know. Just tell it to him straight. “Peter asked, ‘Lord, are you telling this parable to us, or to everyone?’” (12:41). Peter may be wondering why Jesus would be telling this parable about readiness and faithfulness to the apostles, the inner circle. Surely they wouldn’t need to be told? Surely such a parable couldn’t apply to them?
Well, if Peter doesn’t know in his heart by this point, you and I know that he will find out for sure later, by the fireside in a courtyard on a cold night of gut-wrenching failure, yet all things remain always in God’s hands. It is a terrible, wonderful thing to fall into the hands of the Lord.
Jesus doesn’t directly answer Peter’s question or challenge. Instead, Jesus continues: “Who then is the faithful and wise manager, whom the master puts in charge of his servants to give them their food allowance at the proper time?” (12:42). After the resurrection, on that wonderful, mysterious morning by the lakeshore, with the fire and the roasted fish, as Jesus gives Peter full assurance that Jesus clears Peter’s account for each of Peter’s three betrayals, our Lord tells Peter, each time, to feed the flock. You tell me you love me, Peter. To love me, you must know me. Now feed my sheep. To feed the sheep is to know Jesus.
Shepherds had responsibility for making sure the sheep were fed, had food, good food, enough food, and good water, enough water. Jacob was a shepherd. Moses was a shepherd. David was a shepherd. The prophets warned of God’s keen displeasure with the wicked shepherds—the kings, priests, and prophets—the responsible ones, the privileged ones, the ones with authority—who spent their time feeding off of the sheep. Their first duty was to see to it that the sheep were fed with the food God provided, abundantly for all, pure, healthy, fulfilling. They didn’t have this authority by right or birthright. The authority wasn’t even a privilege. Their privilege was to be responsible.
The manager, then, must be faithful and wise. Leaders in the church especially must be faithful and wise. As we draw near to our annual election of elders for session, and as we pray for our church and all congregations and denominations, let us pray for good shepherds, that God would bring forward good shepherds and equip them; only God can. Only God can form such shepherds; only God can equip such shepherds. The church, the congregation, has its part in keeping ready, being prepared, going to the oil, cherishing and maintaining the light in these clay lamps, these earthen vessels. We aren’t perfect and never shall be in this life, whether in our conduct, doctrine, or our hearts, but we can, by grace, become better, fuller, more complete, brighter—I daresay holier—not holier than thou, just wonderfully, miraculously, holier than we happen to be right now.
Elders, including me, have a particular charge to feed the sheep, tend the flock, to love and serve, to protect and nurture, to help birth, to bless, and, when the occasion arises, faithfully and sensitively to bury. Shepherding encompasses every stage of this our migration through this life.
Jesus speaks of shepherds to feed his flock. Christ, the Word of God, is the food of our life. This is what we are called to remember whenever we partake Communion, the bread and the juice, the body and the blood—the very life in our life, for our life, so that we may live and have life abundant. Every church should be an abundant life church. Our elders are specially charged to see that it is so here. “It will be good for that servant whom the master finds doing so when he returns” (12:43). I’m here, our elders are here, to feed you Christ, all of Christ, and nothing other than Christ. No adulterated food, here. No substitutes for the Word of God.
Over time, through changes and challenges, any organization can begin to lose focus, even churches. We don’t have to be told that church attendance is down. We see it almost every Sunday. It’s not just attendance here, though. Nationally, participation in the church is also down. One of the main reasons cited by those who don’t come is irrelevance. The world would be the last to proclaim the urgent relevance of faith and of the church, yet the world constantly though unwittingly proclaims the urgent relevance of faith and the church.
I’m reminding us all of the sacred importance of staying focused, even when things and those all around us are clamoring, loudly, to look this way and that, go this way and that, try this thing and that. Let’s keep our focus on feeding the flock, the flock that is here and the flock that could be here, if we’d all and each go out seeking those straying sheep, and those with no shepherd. Is there no one that you or I could invite? No member of the family? No friend? No neighbor, co-worker, or fellow student? We can’t compel them to come; that’s not what we want! We can invite them. Surely, we each have someone? Even in these isolated post-isolation times. People never will know the relevance of church until they experience the relevance of church, and that is the Holy Spirit, making his home in them, too.
Our Lord has the most encouraging words, for Peter and for all whom God calls to leadership in the church—and there are many ways of being true, holy, faithful leaders in the church. “Truly I tell you, [the master] will put [the faithful manager] in charge of all his possessions” (12:44). Like Joseph in Egypt, or Daniel in Babylon—living in the integrity, the joyful, stalwart integrity of faith. God sees, and God will acknowledge such faith. He won’t do so by ease and riches—are those rewards Christians seek? God acknowledges stalwart faith with greater responsibility, up to and beyond our ability, so that we may marvel at the Spirit and give thanks to God. The ability is given by God; the responsibility is our gift to God.
Who says they want no responsibility? Let us say, Lord, give me, bless me with more responsibility, and see what I am able to do with it for You. There’s the high calling, the upward call. The mountain looks very high, and it is—but the view from the top, beloved! We don’t climb by great leaps forward but by careful steps, chosen with prayer, wisdom, insight, and faith.
“But suppose the servant says to himself, ‘My master is taking a long time in coming,’ and he then begins to beat the other servants, both men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk” (12:45). Yeah, but who does that? Anyone here watch Undercover Boss? I’ve seen some worthy promotions, and I’ve seen some worthy terminations. If anyplace ought to be pure, bright with God’s light, and nurturing in the love of God, it is the church. It never does take much digging to hear of scandals in churches: The tenderest and most innocent, given into the responsibility of leaders in the church, abused by those very leaders. Trust can become a cover for abuse, the opposite of love! Authority becomes a means to indulge and satisfy self: the world still at work in the heart, irresponsibility. I came across a story about a pastor who chewed out his congregation for giving him a wristwatch that he didn’t regard as expensive enough. Maybe they gave him the watch so he could keep track of the length of his sermons. You’ll notice I rarely look at mine. I also recall seeing the Orthodox Patriarch of Moscow sporting a Rolex. It’s like Uncle Ben said—not the rice guy you aren’t allowed to see or remember anymore, but Spider-Man’s uncle—with great power comes great responsibility. The church is for the outworking of the power of God—and the inworking! In the church, power is always from God, for God, and to God. The response-ability is also God’s gift to us. God speaks and awaits our response.
Jesus tells us what will become of those who take the gifts God gives them only to use them for selfish ends, to satisfy the world’s claims still inhabiting the heart: “The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of” (12:46). We won’t know they hour: a surprise inspection. “[The master] will cut [that servant] to pieces and assign him a place with the unbelievers” (12:46). Outside. We don’t want to be outside the kingdom, the New Jerusalem. Scripture can be taken in a couple of different senses when it comes to what happens to those shut out from the kingdom; the main point, however, is that you don’t want to be there.
Last Sunday, I spoke to you about readiness, living in expectation of Christ’s return. That’s often the message of Advent—we aren’t there quite yet. It’s also often the message we hear as we begin to close out the liturgical year, as we are today. Yes, we’re reaching the end of this year’s journey. The wait can seem long, and the return is sure. The new world is coming beloved; the new life is here already—the inworking and outworking of the power of God. Jesus is coming, and he is here, in this congregation, with this church: Immanuel in these hearts, these hands, at work in our wills to do and to act according to God’s good purpose for us and for all things. God, in a special sense, places Himself in our hands, so that we may give Him to others.
To be candid, I don’t expect Christ’s return in heavenly splendor anytime soon, but I’m not going to live my life as if I have plenty of time. No. For me, the time grows shorter with each passing day. “As long as it is day, we must do the works of Him who sent [us]. Night is coming, when no one can work” (Jn 9:4). I’m going to live so God can use me. Let us always continually encourage one another, gently, urgently, patiently, persistently, prayerfully, to aim our living, together, toward God.
And to Jesus Christ, who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests of his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.
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