"Called to More: Whose Image Do You Carry?" (October 18, 2026 Sermon)

Bearing the Image of God

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·October 18, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

21st Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

Matthew 22:15-22

Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one, for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose head is this and whose title?” They answered, “Caesar’s.” Then he said to them, “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed, and they left him and went away.

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Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and give to God what is God’s. Simple, right? Not so much. This is a part of the Bible that is unapologetically about money and politics. I recognize that many of us have a low tolerance for talking about money and politics in church. And yet Jesus does not give us that out this week.

In fact, as I was going through this week and preparing for this sermon, the first thing I thought was, “I really am glad I don’t have to preach on a really tricky parable again this week. God, give me a nice, simple text to give to these people.” And, well, this is the text we got. And yet, even though at the beginning of the week I wasn’t really looking forward to it, the more I prayed about it and the more I talked about it with you all (which is one of the most important parts of my sermon-writing process), the more I began to look forward to it and say, “You know what? God has something to say to God’s church.” This passage is about how we live our lives in a complex and violent world.

When I was talking with some of you during The Word This Week, we discussed how certain stories in the Bible feel as if the context in which they were written is so different from where we live now. Yet this passage doesn’t feel that way. Now, just as back then, we live in a complex, violent world. And the people were asking Jesus, “How do we navigate this kind of dual citizenship that we have?” Being citizens of the kingdom of heaven and, in the case of this story, citizens of the Roman Empire.

A Trap Disguised as a Question

So the Pharisees and the Herodians get together. They’re kind of odd bedfellows. The Pharisees and the Herodians normally did not get along very well, yet they both wanted to put Jesus on the spot. So they ask him a fairly straightforward political question: Should we pay the federal income tax? That’s kind of the modern, vernacular way of putting that question. And he knows that if he answers, “Yes, you should pay your taxes,” he can be accused of supporting the very political regime that is oppressing them. And if he says, “No, you shouldn’t pay your federal income tax to Caesar,” he can be charged with sedition.

And so he takes the political question he receives and returns it with a theological one, in which he says the line that I imagine most of us know very well: “Give to Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and give to God that which is God’s.” It sounds deceptively simple, and yet I think we all know that it is not simple at all. How we use our money, as it pertains to our values as Christians and as citizens of the United States of America, is a deeply personal matter for all of us. It’s a very contextual question for all of us. So I’m not going to stand here and lecture you about how to use your money. But it is my job as your pastor to help us think theologically about what Jesus is getting at.

Whose Image Is This?

And so he calls for a coin, not unlike this one. This is a quarter from my home state of Georgia, with George Washington on one side and a peach on the other. Yet the one they held up was a denarius bearing the image of whom? Caesar, right? So that’s already a politically loaded thing he knows he’s holding in his hand. And he says, “Give to Caesar that which is Caesar’s, and give to God that which is God’s.”

And so, even though that’s a very simple answer, there’s a much deeper subtext at play. Like, yes, Caesars come and go, do they not? And yet our God, “immortal, invisible, God only wise,” created the whole shebang, even Caesar himself! So I think the answer that Jesus is lifting up for us is to remember this: though the coin at the time bore the image of Caesar, Jesus was saying to his disciples then and to his disciples now, “Though the coin with which you pay the tax bears the image of Caesar, remember that you bear the image of God in the world.”

Not Because We Have To

And so, really, it’s a question of accountability. I don’t enjoy paying my taxes any more than the rest of you do. Some of my taxes go to things that are very important. I passed some fire trucks on the way to work today that were heading out to take care of someone who is in pain or sick. That’s a good use of my tax dollars, right? I love the fact that my tax dollars go to pay our teachers. Not nearly enough, but they do. I personally love that my tax dollars help subsidize health care for my neighbors who can’t afford it. I love all those things. There are also places where my tax dollars go that I’m not too crazy about. I suspect that’s true for you as well.

And so, yes, we may give to Caesar, or pay our taxes, because we have to. And yet when we give to the church, I hope we do so not because we have to, but because we get to. This church is a place I come to every single week to be reminded that I am made in the image of God. It’s the place where I bring my family, including our daughters, to remind them that in a world that tries to tell them they belong to X, Y, and Z, the church is where we are all reminded that we belong to God, and to God alone.

And so I’m not going to tell you how to vote. I’m not going to tell you how to spend your money. But I do think that God is calling all of us to remember, as we write our checks, pay our bills, and step into the ballot box, or, for the A&T students who walked an hour to reach their polling location because there is no longer one on campus, as we do all of these things, that we are made in the image of God.

Now, we’re wrapping up our stewardship season, so I simply wanted to say this: I pay my taxes because I have to. I pledge to this church because I get to, because I love it. And so the Fearing family has submitted our pledge card for the 2027 budget. I’m also happy to share with you all this week that, as of a few days ago, one hundred percent of your elected session members have submitted their pledges for 2027 as well.

Because I hope that together we are building the kind of place where we remember that we belong to God. And as we step out into the world, into this messy world where we sometimes face competing allegiances, I hope we remember, through the waters of our baptism, that each of us bears the image of God. That matters in how we treat one another. It matters in how we spend our money. And it matters in how we vote.

So, friends, remember. Right now, let’s close this sermon. Turn to a neighbor and say, “You’re made in the image of God.” You’re made in the image of God. Turn to another neighbor and say, “You’re made in the image of God.” You’re made in the image of God. Now place your hand over your heart and say to yourself, “I am a beloved child of God.”

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s beloved children, say: Amen.

"Called to More: Tenants of a Shared Vineyard" (October 4, 2026 Sermon)

Called to More: Tenants of a Shared Vineyard

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·October 4, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

19^th Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

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Matthew 21:33-46

“Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a winepress in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went away. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first, and they treated them in the same way. Then he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.’ So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”

Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures:

‘The stone that the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone;
this was the Lord’s doing,
    and it is amazing in our eyes’?

“Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces its fruits. The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.”

When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet.

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I am very grateful for the theological insights of the young ones among us. A young disciple here at the church asked me a few weeks ago whether God is in dinosaurs' hearts. It was a very important theological question. My response is: is a God who isn't in dinosaurs' hearts a God worthy of our worship? I don't think so. So yes, God is in fact in dinosaurs' hearts!

Another one that threw me for a loop came a week ago, when we were in the car heading home from preschool. Hazel Grace, just out of the blue, asked me a very profound theological question. She said, "Daddy, do you own the church?” I thought over it for a minute and then said, "No, no. Daddy doesn't own the church. Daddy is responsible for working with the people of our church to take care of it for this chapter in its life."

So I'm really grateful for both the dinosaur question and the question of whether pastors own the church. It reminded me that bad things happen when pastors think they own the church. You could also say that bad things happen when congregations think they own the church. And I think this story also tells us that bad things happen when tenants think they own the vineyard.

A Text Used and Misused

This is a bizarre little parable in Matthew's gospel, one we think the early church told itself to try to make sense of why Jesus was rejected by his own people. So before we go any further into this text, I want to name the ways it has been used, abused, and misused, including in very antisemitic ways. Starting way back in the fourth century with an early church leader named John Chrysostom, this text has been used in some pretty blatant antisemitic ways, such as the idea that the metaphorical vineyard once belonged to the Jews. They had their moment, right? But then they messed up, they rejected Jesus, and now it's “our turn” as Christians.

Folks, we don't peddle that sort of theology here at Guilford Park Presbyterian Church. In fact, I think it is a theological truth that this vineyard was never a “Jewish” vineyard. And you know what? It's not a “Christian” vineyard either. This vineyard belongs to God and God alone. And we are all shared stewards, or tenants, of this vineyard, Jews and Christians alike.

So I think it's important to remember that this story in the Bible is an internal conversation within the Jewish community. It's not pointing fingers at another religion. Therefore, for us as Christians to wave it around and weaponize it against our Jewish siblings is arrogant and theologically problematic, because it falls into the same trap that the tenants in today's story fell into. They thought they owned the vineyard. They didn't realize, as Hazel Grace reminded me, that we don't “own” this.

Yes, we call this our church, and for good reason. Yet we all need to be reminded - myself included - that this doesn't belong to us. This belongs to God. As I gesture here, I hope you all know I'm not talking about the building. I'm talking about us, about this community that God has blessed us with.

Shared Tenants of God’s Vineyard

And I think that's ultimately the story we have in this parable from Matthew's gospel: the idea that God, for reasons beyond my fathoming, entrusts us with this beautiful vineyard. And y'all, we have not always done the best job of it, like the tenants in today's story. But for reasons beyond my fathoming, which I'm nevertheless grateful for, God gives us a chance, over and over and over again, to produce the sort of fruit of neighborliness we are so very hungry for right now.

I hope you all enjoy our new sign from David LaMotte that you see out there, our "Let's Be Neighbors" sign, because that's ultimately what we do here in this vineyard, this little microcosm of God's vineyard that we call Guilford Park Presbyterian Church. We are all shared tenants of it. Which is why we are all being called together to give our tithes, offerings, and pledges, not because we “have” to, but because we get to.

In a world where we are taught to be at each other's throats, we stand up and say, "No, there is a better way for us to come together," at this Table that is not ours. This beautiful vineyard, where hope and healing come, does not belong to us. You and I are shared stewards of it. Though we may come together from different places, political backgrounds, geographic areas, and generations, we all gather around a shared story at this table. And that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

And so we guard this good treasure. A few weeks ago, I sent out a letter that mentioned one of my favorite passages from 2 Timothy, where Paul tells the young Timothy, "Guard the good treasure entrusted to you." You and I have been given a good treasure here at Guilford Park. We are called to guard it, not to hoard it as those wicked tenants did in today's story. We guard it to share it with our neighbors.

Come as Individuals, Leave as Neighbors

So I want us to remember that today. As a beautiful act of remembrance, I want us all to go ahead and turn to our next hymn, which we're going to sing in just a second. It's number 515 in your purple hymnals. Go ahead and open that up right now, if you would. I want to thank Dr. Bill for selecting this text, which I had forgotten about. It's been some time since I sang it. One of the things I love about this hymn, which we're going to close out this sermon with, is the clever theological turn it makes.

Look at the first two verses. What word do they start with? "I." [“I come with joy, a child of God…”] The second verse does something similar. [“I come with Christians far and near…”] So the first two verses begin with "I," right? This idea that we come together as individuals.

But notice, as we sing this hymn, there's a pivot that happens in the middle. Look at verse 4. [“alive among us here…”] And then the last verse. [“Together met, together bound by all that God has done…”]

I love the pivot in this hymn because whenever we come to this table, whenever we come to this vineyard, so to speak, we come as individuals but leave as neighbors. And that's what we're about here at Guilford Park Presbyterian Church. And that is why we give: not because we “have” to, but because we get to. Because we are tenants of a shared vineyard.

So, friends, I cannot close this sermon by myself. I need your help. So let all of us rise, in body or in spirit as you are able, singing our next hymn, “I Come With Joy.”

[sing hymn]

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s beloved children, say: Amen.

"Called to More: the God Who Isn't Fair" (September 20, 2026 Sermon)

Called to More: the God Who Isn't Fair

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·September 20, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

17th Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

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Jonah 3:10-4:11

When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them, and he did not do it.

But this was very displeasing to Jonah, and he became angry. He prayed to the Lord and said, “O Lord! Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning, for I knew that you are a gracious and merciful God, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from punishment. And now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live.” And the Lord said, “Is it right for you to be angry?” Then Jonah went out of the city and sat down east of the city and made a booth for himself there. He sat under it in the shade, waiting to see what would become of the city.

The Lord God appointed a bush and made it come up over Jonah, to give shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort, so Jonah was very happy about the bush. But when dawn came up the next day, God appointed a worm that attacked the bush, so that it withered. When the sun rose, God prepared a sultry east wind, and the sun beat down on the head of Jonah so that he was faint and asked that he might die. He said, “It is better for me to die than to live.”

But God said to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?” And he said, “Yes, angry enough to die.” Then the Lord said, “You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left and also many animals?”

Matthew 20:1-16

“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius for the day, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around, and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received a denarius. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received a denarius. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

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So what are we to do with a God who isn't fair? Or we could also ask, what is a God who isn't fair to do with us? That is what this parable invites us to wrestle with.

A Quiz on the Curve

As I wrestled with this parable this week, I was reminded of something that happened when I was a religion major at Presbyterian College in upstate South Carolina. I had a beloved religion professor named Peter Hobbie. If you've ever been to my office, you'll see a poster on my office door that says "Hobbie is my hero." If you've ever wondered who this person is and why it might come across as idolatrous, I get that. It's because he's one of the reasons I became a pastor. He was one of the people who taught me to love the Bible all over again. Of the eight semesters I was in college, I had him for seven of those eight. So I knew Hobbie really well, and he knew me well.

One thing he did in all his classes, no matter what class it was, was give a quiz every Friday, or Thursday, or whatever the last day of class was that week. There was always a quiz. It was super simple and covered whatever we learned that week. And he always graded the quiz on a curve. You all know what that means. If the highest grade is not a hundred, that grade gets bumped up to a hundred, and everybody else's grade gets bumped up the same, right? So if the highest score is a 95, that 95 becomes a hundred, and my 85 miraculously, graciously becomes a 90. That's how that worked.

So we decided we were gonna test Dr. Hobbie's fairness for one week. We decided that if we all collectively refused to take the quiz, we would all make what? Zeros. Which means the highest score would be zero, which means that score would get bumped up to a hundred, which means we would all make what? Hundreds, right? So we said, okay, we're gonna test the fairness of our beloved professor. And that's what we did. Throughout the week, we all talked, we got organized, and then the big day came. Hobbie came in and handed out the quizzes, and we all just sat there. We put our pencils down and sat in awkward silence. And he looked at us and said, "What the heck are you all doing?" And we said nothing. We nervously looked around the room to see if somebody was gonna chicken out, because we knew we had to stick together. If one person chickened out, he was gonna ruin it for everybody, and that person would automatically become the least popular person in that class.

Eventually, Hobbie said, "Oh, I see what's going on. I'm not gonna tell you whether this is gonna work or not until after you all have turned in your quizzes." So that's what we did. We all turned in our quizzes, held our breath, and he let us squirm for a bit. It was really funny. Then he took a moment, looked at us, and said, "Congratulations, you all just made a hundred." The second thing he said was, "I'm very proud of you for organizing and sticking with one another." Then the next thing he said: “This will work exactly once."

Now, there was probably a student in that classroom who was a little upset that we had spent so much time that week studying for that quiz. It may have been me. I don't remember. And yet that person, if it was me, got a hundred, so I really didn't have much to complain about. But those other people who didn't work as hard, well, that's just not... It's not fair. What do we do with a God who isn't fair?

The Pot-Stirring Landowner

I was thinking about that as I was thinking about the parable of the pot-stirring landowner. And the reason I call him a pot-stirring landowner is that if he had paid the people who had been there at the beginning of the day first, what would they have done? They would have strolled right along and never been any the wiser, right? But this landowner wanted to make a scene. He paid the people who had been there the shortest first, so that the people who had been there the longest saw exactly what happened, and boy, did they throw a pity party. "You made them equal to us? How very dare you," as Bingo and Bluey would say. How very dare you. And so they throw a pity party, right? Because the landowner is just not fair.

And then Bill did a great job reading another story in the Bible about someone who threw a pity party of all pity parties, right? Jonah wanted to see the fireworks. You all remember that story of Jonah. God called Jonah to go preach hellfire and brimstone to the Ninevites because they weren't acting right. And Jonah resisted, and then he spent three days in the belly of a what? Whale fish! No, it's not a whale; it's actually a fish. I know Dylan knows that because he's been studying for the Bible content exam for the past several months. But Jonah went through that ordeal in the belly of the fish, and he finally made it out, and he was ready to see the fireworks. And then what did God do? God had the audacity to change his what? His mind. Because God can do that.

And Jonah throws this huge pity party, and God kind of has fun with him, kind of messes with him. God raises this bush to give Jonah shade, and then the next day, what does God send to destroy the bush? A worm. This is just funny stuff, okay? God is messing with Jonah. Jonah throws this pity party, and I think that's why the people who put the lectionary together paired these two passages: because sometimes we don't know what to do with a God who isn't fair.

Not Fair, but Good

Going back to the parable, I want us to use an image of Lady Justice. Do we have any lawyers in the room? Okay, I know we have a couple. Yeah. What does Lady Justice look like? Is there someone with the last name Rodenbough who can tell me what Lady Justice looks like? Bo, what does Lady Justice look like? What is Lady Justice holding? [Bo Rodenbough: “Holding the scales of justice blindfolded.”]

Very good. She is holding the scales of justice and, most notably, is blindfolded, right? That is our idea of fairness or justice in this country as it pertains to courts of law. And I'm not necessarily saying that's a bad thing. But when we think of God, we often want to turn God into this sort of blind Lady Justice. That's not the God we find in this story of the parable of the pot-stirring landowner. That's not the God we find in Jonah. Instead of finding a God who is fair, we find a God who is good. And that's something to wrestle with this week.

One thing I learned about this parable is that the final line, when the landowner says, "Are you envious because I am generous?" is actually, in the Greek, translated as "Is your eye evil because I am good?" In the Greek, to be envious is to have an evil eye. To be envious is to see the world through the perspective of that unforgiving servant in last week's parable. Remember the one who was forgiven a bazillion dollars and then walked away immediately and threw his fellow slave into prison for owing him a measly 50 cents? Well, here at Guilford Park, we worship a God who is good. And that can be really offensive to some people, for all of us. I wrestle with it too.

One Vineyard, All of Us

But when you give your money, your time, your talents, when all of us pitch in together, no matter how long we've been in the vineyard, so to speak, we are investing in the kingdom of a God who isn't fair but is good. So no matter how long you've been here, whether you're older or younger, whether you vote one way or the other, no matter where you come from, we are all working in the same vineyard together. And it is going to take all of us, no matter how long we've been here, to do the work that God is calling us to do.

So this week, think to yourself: What do I do with a God who isn't fair? And how can I lean into a God who is good? And how can I share that goodness in any way that I can?

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s beloved children, say: Amen.

"Called to More: Free to Give" (September 13, 2026 Sermon)

Called to More: Free to Give

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·September 13, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

16th Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

Exodus 14:19–31

The angel of God who was going before the Israelite army moved and went behind them, and the pillar of cloud moved from in front of them and took its place behind them. It came between the army of Egypt and the army of Israel. And so the cloud was there with the darkness, and it lit up the night; one did not come near the other all night.

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night and turned the sea into dry land, and the waters were divided. The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left. The Egyptians pursued and went into the sea after them, all of Pharaoh’s horses, chariots, and chariot drivers. At the morning watch the Lord, in the pillar of fire and cloud, looked down on the Egyptian army and threw the Egyptian army into a panic. He clogged their chariot wheels so that they turned with difficulty. The Egyptians said, “Let us flee from the Israelites, for the Lord is fighting for them against Egypt.”

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand over the sea, so that the water may come back upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots and chariot drivers.” So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and at dawn the sea returned to its normal depth. As the Egyptians fled before it, the Lord tossed the Egyptians into the sea. The waters returned and covered the chariots and the chariot drivers, the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea; not one of them remained. But the Israelites walked on dry ground through the sea, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left.

Thus the Lord saved Israel that day from the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore. Israel saw the great work that the Lord did against the Egyptians. So the people feared the Lord and believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses.

Matthew 18:21–35

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if my brother or sister sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.

“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him, and, as he could not pay, the lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii, and seizing him by the throat he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

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An Absurd Parable

All right, I had some fun reading this because it’s an absurd parable. When we try to interpret parables literally—or even just a little bit—we try to do the math and figure it out, and sometimes we forget that Jesus was deliberately trying to be absurd. This guy owed a lot of money—a comically large amount. Some people say it was as large as the GDP of an entire country at that time. It's hard to wrap your head around just how much. In fact, Tom Long, whose commentary I leaned on, says that if you want the specific number, it is a bazillion.

How this slave ran up that debt, who knows? It's a pretty foolish king who wouldn't notice one of his servants running up a bar tab like he's going to the Vegas Strip every single weekend, right? It's an absurd amount. And then the king does something equally absurd. He says, “You know what? I've been touched. You're right, you can never repay this—it's impossible. Go, be free, pay it forward.”

Is that what that slave does? No. He goes away whistling, so happy, and then he finds a second slave who owes him something pitiful by comparison. And of course, we all want the story to go the way it should, right—where slave number one forgives slave number two. But that doesn't happen because he forgets what just happened to him. And so he has that slave thrown into jail and denies him the grace that was first given to him.

And then—probably my favorite characters in this story—the other servants see what's going on. Normally I don't encourage people to be tattletales, but in this situation, that's exactly what they do: they go and tell their master what’s going on. And then the master doesn’t take kindly to it and does another absurd thing: he throws him into jail until he can pay off a bazillion dollars. How do you think that's going to go? I don't know how that's going to work. It's a bizarre story. It is absurd.

Tom Long says we need to loosen our grip a little bit and treat this sort of like a cartoon—kind of like, y'all remember the cartoon with Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner? Some of us remember that. Where the coyote is trying to catch the Road Runner, and he's got this big bomb that he's waiting to drop over the cliff onto the Road Runner, and then what happens to the bomb? It blows up in his face, right? That's kind of what happens to this first slave. He has this bomb that he's going to drop on his fellow slave, and then it blows up in his face.

Now, just because we take these parables as cartoons, as absurd, does not mean they don't have something serious to tell us.

Two Distinct Worlds

And I think this is it: this parable presents us with two very distinct worlds. One in which mercy and grace are so common they are the very air we breathe. The other is one we are all too familiar with, where we are taught to be at each other's throats. And so the sin of this first slave was not necessarily stinginess—although he sounds pretty stingy. His sin was amnesia, because he forgot so quickly the grace that was given to him. Which is why, I think, the people who put together the lectionary paired us with that Exodus passage that Payne read for us today—the story of how God saved the Israelites from a ruthless economy into one governed by grace. And this slave, when he is given grace, immediately goes back to the other side of the Red Sea, for some reason. He goes back into that economy of ruthlessness, where we want to grab each other by the throat and say, “Pay what you owe.”

Today, I want us all to rest in this good news: God does not call us to be perfect. God calls us to remember.

What Our Giving Remembers

And when we invest our dollars, our time, and our talents in this congregation, we are trying—in our own imperfect but faithful way—to lean into that world where we aren't at each other's throats. There's enough of that going on around us right now. But when we come to this church, every pledge we give is an investment in remembering how much we have been given. Every time we volunteer our hours at committee meetings—even if it may not be the sexiest or most fun thing in the world—we are remembering what God has done for us. When we go downtown, as we did yesterday, and hand out more than three hundred care packages at the Pride Festival, we are remembering the grace that was first given to us.

So, friends, we have two worlds before us. I don't know about you, but there's one I've had enough of, and another I need more of. Together, let us remember what God has done, and let us give our time and our talents accordingly.

In the name of God, the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, and may all of us, God's beloved children, say: Amen.