September 19, 1999
You arrived in town late. You took a nasty fall in your journey
to get here, turning your ankle and hurting your wrist. You had
heard there might be some work, and that is way you were on your
way in the first place, the hint of work. But now it is nearly
5 o'clock by the time you figure out where the landowners go to
hire folks and you're hurt and hungry and figure there is no hope
of working today.
You're surprised (and dismayed) to find others waiting when you arrive. Whatever hope you had of being hired evaporates. You could almost believe it possible that through some great fortune a landowner would appear, find you and hire you. But when you find a crowd already gathered, and your the last one in the group, you slink to the back and gloom engulfs you.
From that black hole, how thrilling it is to see the landowner approach, how wonderful it is to hear him invite you into the vineyard to work. Unbelievable. He has invited all of you; he has invited even you, the very last to arrive. Your hobbled step and aching bones regain a little bounce, until you get to the vineyard. You will work for about an hour and when you arrive and see what the other workers have produced during the day, the gloom returns.
With your turned ankle and sprained wrist you won't be able to produce much, nothing in comparison to some of the workers you see around you. You will be lucky if the landowner pays you at all, but despite the gloom and the hindrances you start to work. When the hour is finished, and it goes by all too quickly, the gloom slams you again. You have done even less than you thought you would, it is the least amount of those who came with you, and when compared to the production of those who had been in the vineyard longer, well, even a child could have done better.
Still, you were able to gain an invitation to the vineyard, you worked the best you could, you hope that you will get at least one coin for your work, but the gloom says you don't even deserve a half of a coin. When the landowner decides to pay the late comers first, you are sure you will not even get half of a coin when he sees what you have produced.
And then, you are thrust to the front of the line, you know there will be no escaping the humiliation now. And then, and then you are paid a whole days' wages, a whole days' wages, can you imagine. Can you imagine gloom turned to joy. Can you imagine?
I hope that you have heard again, for the first time, that in the Kingdom of God we are all invited to come inside, that God persists in seeking us out, even at the last minute, that we are all equal, and that we can count on God to give us what we need, not what we deserve.
In the story just shared in the Gospel, the landowner invites laborers into the vineyard. Perhaps a minor point, but worth our while to notice. The laborers did not walk into the field themselves, they did not convince the landowner through resumes and recommendations that they were the best, they did not present a portfolio of accomplishments and sample work to win entrance into the vineyard. They were invited in by the landowner.
What an awesome realization: we have already been invited into the Kingdom. You and I are already part of the Kingdom. We have been invited by the heavenly Father into the Kingdom of God and there is no one who can destroy that invitation. That is grace.
Would you believe—and I'll bet you would—that from time to time those invited into the Kingdom lose their way, they never quite make it, or they stay for a time and then leave? Would you believe that God invites sinners and slackards into the Kingdom? Isn't it possible that some of the laborers found later in the day, even at the end of the day, had heard the invitation to work, had started into the vineyard/kingdom, and either never made it or turned aside at the last minute, or started to work and then left for some reason? Isn't it possible?
And here is the landowner/God expressing wonder that he still finds laborers late in the day and yet invites them in, nonetheless. Perhaps he even recognized some of them as having been invited earlier, but here he is, inviting them again. And something else, he persists in going to the marketplace throughout the day, he doesn't go just once.
Again, how reassuring for us. God will persist in seeking us out. God will not chastise us loudly or long, God will invite us into the Kingdom, it is his way. In a few moments we will all confess that we are sinners, deserving of contempt, deserving of punishment, deserving of being cut off from the God we love, but very much in need of forgiveness, reconciliation, and God's embrace. And there is God, seeking us out, forgiving our sins, embracing us with his Peace, and inviting us to dine at the table. That is grace.
We join a long line of sinners and misfits who have been sought out and invited by God to be part of Kingdom: Mary Magdalene, Matthew the tax collector, Peter who disowned Christ in his moment of need, and Paul who persecuted those who believed in God's grace in Jesus Christ.
Basking in this incredible generosity, we must accept the next truth as well: we are all equal in God's wonderful Kingdom. Mary Magdalene equal with Mary, the Mother of God. Saul who breathed curses and rounded up Christians equal to John, the beloved disciple who rested his head on Christ during the Last Supper. The thief who repented on the cross equal to James called to follow Christ at the shore on the Sea of Galilee. Whether we have been here from the first invitation, whether we have come lately, whether we have come and gone (needing repeatedly to hear God's invitation), we are equally lavished with God's love.
What is revealed in the parable about the Kingdom is as shocking as it is reassuring. Let the story of another pastor make this point. Pastor Scott Dudley of Menlo Presbyterian Community Church was in a dorm room at Stanford talking to some students about grace, using this parable. One of the students had finally heard enough and challenged him:
"Let me give you a hypothetical. Suppose my friend here goes crazy and kills a whole bunch of people and maybe commits a little armed robbery on the side, on the last day of his life he has a genuine sincere conversion to Jesus Christ. Are you telling me that he goes to heaven just the same as Mother Theresa?"
[He responded], "That's what I'm telling you."
[And the student retorted], "That's not fair!" (2)
It certainly doesn't seem fair in the economy of this world, but, thanks be to God, it is the economy of the Kingdom. God's love isn't reserved for those men and women we call saints, for those men and women whose lives, like Mother Teresa's, are filled with light and love and reveal the glory of God. No, God's love is equally for you and me in our poverty, in our backsliding, in our most noble moments and in our worst moments. And that is grace—receiving what we need, not what we deserve. Equals at the foot of the cross, equally loved by a generous God. That is grace. (Thanks be to God it isn't fair.)
Philip Yancey, a wonderful contemporary writer, puts it this way:
Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more—no amount of spiritual calisthenics and renunciations, no amount of knowledge gained from seminaries and divinity schools, no amount of crusading on behalf of righteous causes. And grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us less—no amount of racism or pride or pornography or adultery or even murder. Grace means that God already loves us as much as an infinite God can possibly love. (3)
Loved as much as we can possibly be loved. Wow. So today let us praise God in our worship, giving thanks for this grace that seeks us out even at the last minute and invites us into the Kingdom where we can receive the generous outpouring of his love for us. And let us resolve to help others hear this invitation, too. Amen.
(1) Adapted from, Dan and Nancy Dick, Wisdom from the Proverbs (Uhrichsville, OH: Narbour & Company, 1986).
(2) From a sermon preached by The Rev. Scott Dudley, October 24-25, 1998; found on the Internet at http://www.mppc.org/sermons/
(3) Philip Yancey, What's so amazing about grace? (Grand Rapids, MI, 1997), page 70
The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
19 September 1999