Lambs among Wolves

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 10:1-9                                            

 October 18, 2026

St. Luke, Evangelist       

Dear saints of our Savior~

        Christmas is just now 68 days away.  If you just can’t wait to unpack your Nativity scene with the holy family, the shepherds, the stable, and the angel—or if you find it heartwarming to hear a group of little children singing, “Away in a manger,”—or if you yourself love to belt out Gloria in Excelsis Deo—well then, today let’s remember and give thanks to God for the man who made it all possible: Saint Luke, the Evangelist.

        The Holy Spirit inspired Saint Luke to write one third of the entire New Testament, including his detailed account of the Nativity of our Lord.  It is exclusively in the Gospel according to St. Luke that we hear angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth good will to men.”  It’s only from Luke’s pen that we know about the shepherds, the manger, the inn, and that Quirinius was governor of Syria when Jesus was born.  Luke alone gives us Mary’s Magnificat and Simeon’s Song about departing in peace.  Christmas would be quite different—in fact, the entire Christian faith would have a big, gaping hole—without the “good news” written down by Saint Luke.

        There’s one theme that permeates Luke’s gospel. That theme was spoken by Jesus at the home of Zacchaeus the tax collector:  The Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19:10).  Seeking and saving the lost—that’s the beating heart of the good news according to St. Luke.  Luke makes clear that’s why Jesus was born in Bethlehem—that’s why angels sang at His birth.  That’s why Jesus was crucified, died and was buried—why He rose again on the third day—why He ascended to the Father’s right hand.  Jesus came to seek and to save sinners.

        That seeking and saving continue today.  You and I are proof of it.  For wherever there are sinners—wherever there are sheep without a shepherd—wherever there are prodigal sons and daughters—there you can be sure that Jesus is seeking, Jesus is saving.

        But today’s Holy Gospel reminds us that, before there can be a seeking and saving, there has got to be a sending.  Sinners can’t grope their way to God by their own reason or strength.  Someone must be sent to them.  There must be a sending of men to preach and proclaim the good news about Jesus.  All Scripture is breathed-out by God and is useful.  But all Scripture must also be preached and applied to the hearts of men and women everywhere.  This is why the Savior who seeks and saves the lost is also in the sending business—sending pastors and preachers to proclaim:  The kingdom of God has come near to you.

        About this time every year I remember how the Lord sent me to you, here at Our Savior.  For it was right around Columbus Day that I accepted the call and came here to visit with my family for the first time.  Fall colors were blazing.  Leaves were falling like tongues of fire as we walked down the block to Richards school to get our children enrolled.  It was exciting and scary and overwhelming.  But in, with, and under all that, the Lord Jesus was sending—sending me to you, so that His work of seeking and saving the lost might continue in this place.

        When Jesus sent out the seventy-two in today’s Holy Gospel, He told them: I am sending you out as lambs in the midst of wolves.  You have to wonder what the seventy-two thought when they heard that.  Note the danger.  For we all know what can happen to lambs among wolves.  And Jesus sends them out practically empty-handed—no moneybag, no knapsack, no sandals, no wolf repellent, nothing.  Like lambs among wolves—like kibble for carnivores.

        Because the wolves will be watching, Jesus sends the seventy-two out two by two.  There’s some safety and security in numbers.  That’s why you shouldn’t be a solitary Christian.  Never separate yourself from the Communion of saints.  Believers who think they can get by on their own—privately, apart from the church—are like a lone lamb.  That’s what the wolves look for.  You don’t have to watch too many nature shows to know what the outcome will be for the defenseless, solitary, little lamb.  That’s why in His sending of the seventy-two, Jesus sends them in a fellowship, a team, a communion with one another.  That’s also why He’s called you into this congregation.

        St. Luke tells us that when Jesus was born, the angels sang about peace—peace on earth, good will to men.  That’s also the message Jesus gave the seventy-two to proclaim:  Whatever house you enter, first say, “Peace be to this house.”  These sent-ones are ambassadors of the Prince of Peace.  This is so much more than just a fond wish or a sappy Hallmark greeting.  This peace comes from the cross of the Crucified One, a peace the world cannot give—resurrection peace—a peace that surpasses our understanding. 

        You yourself have received that peace.  You are receiving that peace today as God’s sent servant places God’s Word in your ears and places the body and blood of God’s Son on your lips, saying:  The peace of the Lord be with you always.  The peace you receive here is the peace of sin forgiven and heaven opened.  With the peace of Christ reigning in your heart, you (like Paul) can fight the good fight.  You can finish the race.  You can keep the faith and claim the crown that awaits all who trust in God’s beloved Son.

        Jesus told the seventy-two He sent to say these nine words:  The Kingdom of God has come near to you.  That sentence probably summarizes every sermon I and my fellow “sent ones” have ever preached.  The kingdom of God has come near to you in God’s Son, Jesus Christ—in the words of His promises, in the splash of His baptism, in His holy absolution, and in His precious body and blood.  That’s how God’s kingdom comes to you.

        And take note of this too:  God’s kingdom comes.  We don’t build the kingdom of God.  We don’t make it succeed or fail.  We proclaim it.  We preach the kingdom, and God Himself gets the results.  We proclaim, but God builds.  The kingdom of God is not built on our efforts but on God’s efforts, not on our works, but on Christ’s works, not with our blood, sweat, and tears, but with Jesus’ blood, sweat, and tears.  He does the work.  Those He sends announce, “It is finished.” And you—you simply believe it.  The Lord Jesus has sought you and saved you.  And He has sent me—to you—to preach that good news.

        The Lord Jesus has not specifically called and sent you to preach the gospel.  But He has called and sent you to do other important work.  You have your own callings, your own vocations as parent or grandparent, son or daughter, citizen, student, neighbor, worker, or friend.  These callings also require risk and sacrifice.  You may sometimes feel like a lamb among wolves.  And often we’d rather not do the very thing God has sent us to do.  But know this:  Wherever Jesus sends you, there He will bless you.

        That’s how it was for Saint Luke.  Luke wasn’t a preacher like Paul.  He was a historian and a physician.  As Paul’s execution drew near, Luke alone was there, attending him, comforting him.  Because, in the end, we are all beggars, only able to receive and believe the great good news that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners.  Luke was by Paul’s side as a physician of body and soul.  The Lord used Luke in mighty ways that have enriched our lives and strengthened our faith.  Because of Luke, you can know for sure:  The kingdom of God has come near to you.

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

This Is the Feast

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 22:1-14                                     

October 11, 2026

Proper 23A                                 

Dear saints of our Savior~

        It’s sad scene to imagine:  A lavish party …with no people to populate the party; or a wedding feast with no guests to eat, drink, or be merry.  A feast requires feasters and a party requires partiers.  Now, imagine it’s your party.  You’ve invited all your contacts and no one shows.  All the planning and purchasing, all that fuss about the food and the place-settings, the decorations and the DJ—all that work and anticipation for nothing!  A sad scene, indeed—a scene that today’s parable causes us to ponder.

        The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son.  I don’t know whether you picked up on this or not, but in Bible times, weddings were run by the men, not the women.  The central character at the wedding was not the bride, but the groom.  And you can tell that men were in charge because the most important thing about a wedding was lots of barbequed meat and fine wine to drink.  “Rich food full of marrow,” says Isaiah, “and well-aged wine.” 

        So in this parable a king throws a wedding party for his son.  All the kingdom’s A-list celebrities have received their invitations; but it quickly becomes painfully clear that everyone has other plans.  The king even sends his servants door-to-door to say, “The steaks are on, the prime rib is smoking, the wine is poured, the feast is ready, come to the feast.”  And you would think that an invitation from the king, followed up with a personal reminder—would cause people to drop whatever they were doing and come running to the feast.  But you would be wrong.

        They paid no attention.  One went off to his farm to work, another to his business.  Some actually seized the king’s servants, and beat them up and killed them.  And all this from the invited guests!  Remember now, they had a place reserved at the feast.  The king had invited them; he was expecting them; he had prepared for them.  And the only reason they wind up being destroyed is that they would not come to the feast.  They would not.  It’s not that the king wouldn’t have them, or didn’t want them, or never invited them.  They would not go.

        Pastors can identify with this king (in a small way).  Every Sunday morning the invitation goes out to all, “The feast is ready; come to the feast.”  And every Sunday pastors come to terms with the fact that many, many of those invited to the feast have made other plans. I have also learned to give thanks for the many who have heard and heeded the invitation—who have come to the King’s feast of victory—a foretaste of the feast to come.

        Or think about it from God’s perspective.  The Divine Service is a party, prepared by the King.  The feast is ready.  The Lamb is slain.  The wine is poured.  Come to the feast.  But all the invited guests have more important things to do:  brunch, golf, soccer, sleep, work, leaf-raking, you name it.  Free food and drink, free forgiveness, heaping helpings of life and salvation for all who believe to receive—what’s not to like?  And yet, judging by all the invited who don’t show up, you’d think we were giving away free colonoscopies.

        Well, in the parable it turns out that you don’t want to get on the bad side of this king.  He’s so nice and so incredibly generous; but he’s not so easy-going when you blow him off and beat up his servants.  So the king sends out his troops and destroys them and their city.  See what happens when men run a wedding?  Things get blown up, fights break out, and it turns into a battle scene from Braveheart.  And whose fault is it?  The invited guests become enemies—even though they have a place setting at the table.  And it’s all their own fault.  They refused the king’s goodness and so they get the king’s wrath.

        Now let’s be clear about this:  You don’t earn your salvation by your perfect church attendance.  But you do rehearse your “being saved” by coming to church to hear the Word of forgiveness and by receiving a foretaste of the feast to come.  Similarly, you don’t earn eternal condemnation by your absence from church.  But by your absence you are rehearsing for the day of damnation.  So, be careful about saying “no” when the Lord’s gifts are offered to you.  Those “no’s” to God’s grace are little rejections of God that can culminate in the big rejection on the Day of Judgment.  Or to put it another way, what are you rehearsing for?  Salvation or damnation?

        Now, in the parable, the A-list invitees, well, that’s Israel and her religious leaders. They were actively rejecting Jesus—and, in so doing, forfeiting their seat at the feast.  Jesus “came to his own, but his own did not receive Him.”  

        The king now has a bit of a dilemma.  The A-list celebrities are not only not coming to the feast, they are also quite dead.  The feast is still ready.  The only things missing are the guests.  And so the king sends out his servants again, this time out onto the highways, byways, and alleyways, and he has them invite anyone and everyone, the good and the bad and the ugly—the least, the lost, the lowly, the good-as-dead—you name it.  The feast is ready.  Come to the feast.  And wonder of wonders, the wedding hall is filled with guests. 

Of course, this crowd represents the church—the New Israel of the New Testament—a motley crew of all sorts and all nations, the good and the bad, sinners of every stripe—including the likes of you and me—you and me for whom the King’s Son suffered and died and rose again.

        Let’s pause the parable for a second, as the wedding hall is at capacity.  At this point, is there anyone who wasn’t invited?  Anyone who didn’t have the opportunity to be there at the feast?  No, for all intents and purposes, the whole kingdom has been invited.  And how many of the gathered guests deserve to be there?  Not a one.  It’s all grace, all gift, all gospel—unearned, unmerited, undeserved.  The worthy are found unworthy; the unworthy are declared worthy.  The kingdom of heaven is like that.

        Now back to our parable.  The king surveys his gathered guests who are all having a grand old time.  But then he spies a man in the corner who’s not wearing a wedding suit.  Now remember, since these guests were just rounded up off the street with no time to change clothes, we have to assume that the king himself was handing out Armani suits and Dior dresses at the door as each guest arrived.  He’s generous that way.  But for some reason, this man isn’t wearing the attire he was given.  “Hey buddy,” asks the king, “How did you get in here without a suit?”

        Our translation says the man was “speechless.”  But what it actually says is that he was “silent.”  Being speechless implies that he was stunned at getting caught, like a wedding crasher being confronted.  But silence suggests that this suit-less soul was blowing off the king—ignoring him—snubbing the father of the bridegroom!  Now, what should the man have said?  Maybe something like, “I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.”  That always tends to work in this kingdom.  But instead, he stays silent, insisting to be at the feast—but on his own terms.  Not a good idea.

        He winds up being tossed into the outer darkness, where tears flow and molars grind for all eternity.  And to all this, Jesus adds the clincher:  For many are called, but few are chosen.  The “called” are the many—the multitude from the east and the west—who have heard the great good news that Jesus Christ died to save sinners and that by His resurrection, death has been swallowed up forever. And the “chosen” are those few who in faith are gathered at the marriage feast of the Lamb in His Kingdom, who are clothed with the wedding garment of His righteousness in holy Baptism.

        To be included—to be a feaster at the feast for the least—is all by God’s grace, His gift to you.  To be excluded is entirely your doing, your refusal, your turning away.  God will invite you, compel you, lavish His gifts upon you, clothe you with wedding attire, seat you at the table and feed you the finest of food and drink.  But He won’t force anyone to stay.  His guests are free men and women; they are not held against their will.  Luther once quipped that the doors of the church swing in both directions so that those who wish to come in to feast may come, and those who wish to leave can leave.  But be careful.  The alternative to this wedding feast is the outer darkness and separation from the God of all grace.  And it’s so entirely unnecessary.

        But you, you are invited—called and chosen.  You are clothed and loved—fed and forgiven.  The feast is ready.  Come to the feast. 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.