Sermons

CHRIST COLLIDES

WITH OUR BLINDERS

Luke 18:31-19:10
Pastor Calvary deJong

April 6^th, 2025

Introduction: Climbing Trees

On March 31st — the last legal day to prune elm trees in Saskatchewan — I found myself 20 feet up a ladder with a chainsaw, overlooking my wife’s raised garden boxes. She loves to garden, but the shade from a neighbor’s overgrown elm had been blocking sunlight for years. A couple of years ago, we dealt with the roots by laying landscape fabric and gravel and building up fresh soil in raised beds. But we still hadn’t dealt with the shade. So, there I was — ready to trim a few limbs — until I realized they’d fall directly onto the power line. My options weren’t great: risk electrocution, break the law by pruning late, or disappoint my wife until August. So, I called Saskatoon Light and Power to request a line drop. To my surprise, a crew showed up 15 minutes later. One technician looked at me and said, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I said, “Yes, sir” — which was only mostly true.

With the line down and the branches cleared, I stood in the tree and looked out across the neighbourhood. And it reminded me of another man who climbed a tree — not for sunlight, but to catch a glimpse of a Savior. Zacchaeus wasn’t physically blind, but he still couldn’t see clearly — not until Jesus showed up. And sometimes, we need Christ to collide with our blinders so we can see what matters most. Luke 18:31–19:10 tells a continuous story in three scenes. Each involves someone who cannot see clearly, and each moves us closer to the heart of the gospel: that Jesus came to seek and to save the lost.

Act 1: The Disciples and Their Blindness (Luke 18:31–34)

Jesus, nearing Jerusalem, tells His disciples what’s about to happen: “Everything that is written about the Son of Man will be fulfilled.” He predicts His betrayal, suffering, death, and resurrection. This is a direct reference to Daniel 7:13–14, where the Son of Man is given divine authority and a kingdom that will never end. Jesus is saying plainly: “I am that King — but my crown will come through the cross.” And yet the disciples are confused. Luke writes, “Its meaning was hidden from them.” Despite walking with Jesus, hearing His teaching, and witnessing His miracles, they don’t see what’s coming. They’re not physically blind — but spiritually, they’re in the dark. Their assumptions about power and glory prevent them from seeing the suffering path Jesus must take.

Act 2: The Blind Beggar Who Sees (Luke 18:35–43)

As Jesus enters Jericho, a blind man hears the commotion and asks what’s going on. When he learns that Jesus is passing by, he cries out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” That title — Son of David — is a loaded phrase. It comes from promises in 2 Samuel 7:12–16 and Isaiah 11:1–10 about a coming King from David’s line who would rule with righteousness. This man may be blind, but he sees Jesus more clearly than the disciples do. The crowd tells him to be quiet — but he cries out louder. Jesus stops and asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” He replies, “Lord, I want to see.” Jesus says, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.” This man doesn’t just regain physical vision — he becomes a disciple. Luke says he follows Jesus, glorifying God. In contrast to the disciples’ blindness, this beggar shows what true sight looks like: faith that sees Jesus for who He really is.

Act 3: The Tax Collector Who Climbs (Luke 19:1–10)

Next, we meet Zacchaeus — a wealthy chief tax collector. He’s not physically blind, and he’s not marginalized in the same way the beggar is. But he’s spiritually stuck. He’s traded dignity for wealth, working with the Roman occupiers to collect taxes — often overcharging his own people for profit. Still, he wants to see Jesus. Short in stature and blocked by the crowd, he climbs a sycamore tree — an act both desperate and undignified. Jesus stops, looks up, and says, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” It echoes the murmuring from Luke 15:2: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” But Zacchaeus is transformed. He stands and says, “Lord, I give half my possessions to the poor, and if I’ve cheated anyone, I’ll pay back four times the amount.” That’s far beyond the restitution laws in Leviticus 6 and Numbers 5, which only required repayment plus 20%. He isn’t earning salvation — he’s responding to it. Jesus declares, “Today salvation has come to this house… For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

Come On Down — Jesus is Coming Over

Let me ask: Do you want to see Jesus? Not just know about Him. Not just agree with Christian ideas. But to encounter Him — to have your eyes opened and your heart awakened? That’s what happened on the Jericho road. A blind man cried out. A tax collector climbed a tree. Both were desperate. Both were seen. And both were changed. Maybe you feel like the blind man — stuck, ignored, unsure if you matter. Or maybe you’re more like Zacchaeus — successful but spiritually adrift. Either way, Jesus still stops. He still looks up. And He still calls people by name. Before Zacchaeus repented or paid anyone back, Jesus said, “I must stay at your house today.” Grace didn’t wait for him to clean up — it moved first.

What’s Blocking Your Vision?

What’s keeping you from seeing clearly? Is it pride? Pain? Fear? Shame? Maybe just distraction? Like the disciples, have you grown familiar with Jesus but lost your wonder? Has your faith become routine? The invitation still stands. Jesus is passing by. And He’s calling your name.

We Are a Church Where Weakness Becomes Witness

This message isn’t just for individuals — it’s for our church collectively. If the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost, that shapes our calling too. Let’s be a church community where:

• It’s safe to cry out, like the blind man.
• Outsiders like Zacchaeus are welcomed with joy, not suspicion.
• Weakness isn’t something to hide — it’s something Jesus redeems.

Because the story doesn’t end when you meet Jesus. That’s where it begins.

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus, You still stop for the forgotten, and You still call the searching by name. You see past our blinders — and You draw near with compassion and grace. Help us climb whatever tree we need to climb, to cry whatever prayer we need to pray, and to follow wherever You lead. Let our weakness become a witness, our homes a place of welcome, and our lives a testimony to Your redeeming love.

Amen.

CHRIST COLLIDES:

WITH OUR PRIORITIES

Luke 15:1-32
Pastor Calvary deJong

March 23^rd, 2025

Introduction: Sorting People and Missing Grace

After my first year of Bible college, I worked construction in downtown Winnipeg—on what’s now the Canada Life Centre—where the Winnipeg Jets play. From the job site, I’d watch the sidewalk: professionals in suits, tradespeople grabbing coffee, and those living rough—pushing carts, walking alone. They shared the same space, but not the same world. Invisible lines marked who belonged and who didn’t. If we are honest, we do this too—sorting people without even realizing it. It’s this exact dynamic that Jesus addresses in Luke 15. Religious leaders were scandalized—not by Jesus’ teachings—but by His table company. “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them,” they muttered (v.2). So, Jesus tells three stories—not to shame, but to reveal. Because sometimes, the real obstacle to grace isn’t someone else’s sin—it’s our own sense of who deserves to be included.

The Sheep & The Search: Grace Goes Looking

Jesus starts with two short parables. In one story, a shepherd has one hundred sheep—one goes missing. He leaves the ninety-nine to search. When he finds it, he celebrates. In the next story, a woman has ten silver coins, each worth a day’s wage—one is lost. She turns her house upside down until she finds it. And again—celebration. In both parables, the object of value doesn’t find its way home—the shepherd and the woman do the searching. These aren’t just heartwarming tales—they reveal how God views the lost, not with frustration but with joy. God doesn't shrug at what's missing—He goes after it, and He throws a party when it's found.

The Parable of Two Lost Sons: And the Father Who Sought Them Both

Unlike the first two stories, Jesus’ third parable breaks the pattern. Something is lost—but no one goes looking. This is intentional. Because now, the story gets personal. Jesus wants His listeners—especially the Pharisees—to see themselves.

1. The Younger Son: From Rebellion to Return

In the third parable, a man has two sons and his younger son asks for his inheritance early—a deeply offensive request. It’s a declaration: “I want your stuff, not you.” The father gives in, liquidating a third of his estate. The son leaves, spends everything on “wild living,” and ends up feeding pigs—a detail that would have made Jesus’ Jewish audience cringe. Then comes the turning point in the story: “He came to his senses.” Broken, hungry, and ashamed—the younger son decides to return home, not expecting restoration but hoping for survival. Yet, “While he was still a long way off,” his father sees him and runs to him—an undignified act in that culture. But grace doesn't wait for explanations. Grace runs. The father’s robe, ring, and sandals are more than gestures—they’re declarations of identity, authority, and belonging. And the party he throws upon his son’s return? It’s heaven’s way of saying: “You’re home.”

2.     The Elder Brother: Resentful Rule-Keeping

But there’s another son—the elder one who never left. When he hears the music, he’s furious. “All these years I’ve been slaving for you… but you never threw a party for me.” His words betray his heart—he sees himself more as a servant than a son. His bitterness shows that proximity doesn’t equal intimacy. While his brother ran away physically, the elder brother stayed and grew distant emotionally. His moral record became his justification. But he’s just as lost—just as alienated from the father’s joy.

This is the danger of religious pride. Timothy Keller writes in his book The Prodigal God, that there is more than one way to reject God: one is by being very bad, and the other is by being very good and thinking that your goodness obligates God. This is what Keller calls “lostness in morality.” One son broke the rules. The other kept the rules to maintain control. Yet both are in a sense equally distant from the father's heart.

3.     The “Prodigal” Father: Extravagant Love for Both Sons

Both sons dishonour the father—one through rebellion, the other through resentment. But the father moves toward both. He runs to the younger, and he pleads with the elder. He is the one character consistent in love, generosity, and grace. In the end, this is the father’s story. He is the one who suffers loss, gives freely, and risks rejection again and again. His love is extravagant—what Timothy Keller calls prodigal. He invites both sons to come home—not just into his house, but to his heart.

Conclusion: Where Are You in the Story?

Do you identify with the younger son? Regret, shame, and wondering if it’s too late? God the Father sees you. He’s not waiting with crossed arms—He’s already running.

Do you relate to the elder brother? You’ve done the “right things,” but feel unseen or bitter when grace is given to others? The Father is inviting you too—not just to obey, but into His joy and to celebrate. Jesus is the true elder brother—who didn’t sulk outside but left the Father’s side, paid the cost, and brought us home. As Keller writes: “You are more sinful than you ever dared believe—and more loved than you ever dared hope.” The gospel is not a reward for effort. It’s an invitation to come home.

A Vision for the Future of Our Church: A Heart for the Lost

Let’s be a church that leaves the porch light on for prodigals, and throws a party when they come home. Let’s plead with elder brothers and sisters to come inside. Let’s reflect the Father’s heart to everyone—regardless of where they’ve been or how long they’ve stayed. And if you’re a good Mennonite who doesn’t dance? Well, maybe it’s time the joy of Jesus leads us to start dancing on the inside!