“Jesus Calling” (Luke 16:1-13)

 

If I Knew

One of my favorite pomes is If I Knew by Kimberly Kirberger. Part of it goes like this:

 

If I Knew 
I would listen more carefully to what my heart says. 
I would enjoy more... worry less...
I would play more, fret less… 
I wouldn't be afraid of acting like a kid. 
I would be braver. 
I would look for the good qualities in everyone and enjoy them for those… 
I would take dance lessons… 
I would enjoy kissing. Really enjoy it. 
I would be more appreciative and grateful, for sure. 

 

This poem reminds us how precious – and at the same time, how fleeting – our lives are. It’s a gentle yet powerful wake-up call. And wake-up calls, though often painful, can be profoundly beneficial if we receive them well – whether they come through a near accident, a health crisis, the loss of a loved one, or even a financial crash. These moments force us to stop, step back, and ask: “Why am I doing all this?” “Where am I heading?”

 

The Parable (vv. 1-8)

Jesus often used parables as wake-up calls. Today’s parable – the story of the dishonest manager – is a powerful wake-up call, rather than just moral teachings and examples. Through today’s story, Jesus is calling us to “Live with the end in mind.”

 

In the story, a dishonest manager is informed that he can no longer serve. This is his wake-up call – he’s being fired. Now he is forced into deep self-reflection, and comes up with a clever plan.

 

In Jesus’ time, Jewish law prohibited lending money with interest. But many people got around that by lending commodities – like oil and wheat – instead of money. These were everyday essentials. In the story, it’s likely the manager reduced the bills by removing the interest that the master had added.[1] This way, once he lost his job, he would be welcomed into the homes of those who benefited from his shrewdness. While the master didn’t affirm the manager’s dishonesty, he commended his cleverness and foresight. He was so quick, so artful, so smart preparing for the future.

 

So what is Jesus teaching his disciples and us in this story? What can we take away from this strange but powerful parable?

 

Money (v. 9)

First, be faithful in how you use money. In verse 9, Jesus says, “I tell you, use worldly wealth to make friends for yourselves so that when it’s gone, you will be welcomed into the eternal homes.” (CEB)

 

All that we have today – our money, our possessions – have been entrusted to us for a time. We are stewards, not owners. We own nothing; Jesus owns everything. So we must use our possessions to gain eternal friends. Yes, giving generously is important. Tithing (giving 10%) is a good spiritual discipline. But ultimately, it’s not about the 10%. It’s about what we do with the 100%.

 

Money comes and goes. But one thing is sure: It will go somewhere. The question is, where? We are merely stewards of our material wealth. God is the owner. Martin Luther lived with this perspective. He wrote: "We should treat everything we have in this life like a traveler staying one night at a hotel. We use what we need for the journey—food, shelter—but we don’t act like we own the place. In the same way, our possessions aren’t really ours. We should use what we need and share the rest with others. This life is just a short stay; our true home is with the Father in heaven." (paraphrased)[2]

 

We should travel light – with a purpose – using our money to advance God’s kingdom. The only lasting wealth is what we give away in love for Jesus and his good news. So let’s ask ourselves: “Is my use of money drawing me and others closer to God?”

 

Imagine the joy: one day, arriving in heaven and being greeted by our eternal friends, who heard the gospel because of our faithful giving!

 

Little Things (vv. 10-12)

Second, be faithful with little. In verse 10, Jesus continues, “Whoever is faithful with little is also faithful with much, and the one who is dishonest with little is also dishonest with much.” (CEB)

 

In his 2014 commencement speech at the University of Texas, Admiral William McRaven shared ten life lessons he had learned from Navy SEAL training. His first one was: Make your bed.

 

He said, “If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride and it will encourage you to do another task and another and another. By the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed. Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you will never do the big things right… If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.”[3]

 

Recently, I felt overwhelmed and inadequate in my pastoral role. The world around us is so chaotic. The challenges facing the church are so complex. I didn’t know where to begin, and how to navigate. But then, Matthew 24:45 jumped out at me: “Who then are the faithful and wise servants whom their master puts in charge of giving food at the right time to those who live in his house?” (CEB) I felt God speak to my heart: “It’s not your job to worry about the food and resources. Everything will be provided. Your job as a steward is to faithfully feed my people. Be faithful with little.” We live for eternity by being faithful with in the little things – right here, right now.

 

All In (v. 13)

Third, be faithful to God alone. In verse 13, Jesus concluded, “No household servant can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be loyal to the one and have contempt for the other. You cannot serve God and wealth” (CEB). There is no middle ground. We must choose – either we’re all in or all out.

 

Eric Liddell, the Olympic gold medalist, chose faithfulness to God over fame, comfort, and wealth. After winning in the 1924 Olympics, he gave up a promising athletic career to serve as a missionary in China. He even refused to run his best race because it was on a Sunday, honoring the Lord above public pressure.

 

Later, during WWII, he was imprisoned in a Japanese internment camp, where he poured out his life for others. He was a man of many talents. He gave all his strength and gifts to serve others. He taught Bible classes, math and science, organized sports for the children, gave away his food to those weaker than him. Even in his final days – tired, sick, and dying – he was discipling. He died in the middle of a one-on-one Bible study. Eric Liddell used all his gifts, time, and energy for God’s glory. He lived “all in.” His life still speaks today. May we also live with that kind of faithfulness.

 

Remember

There is a time for everything – a time to be born, and a time to die. On every tombstone, there are two dates—our birth and our final day. But what truly matters is how we live the dash in between.

 

If Solomon were alive today, I think he might sum up today’s parable (the story of the dishonest manager) by quoting from Ecclesiastes:

 

“Life is temporary. Life is fleeting. There is a time for everything. Seize the day. Enjoy every moment. Appreciate the gifts God has been entrusted to you – your family, your work, your talents, your wealth. But remember – remember your Creator before the Day comes. Honor God with your life.”

 

May we be faithful:

Faithful in our use of money,

Faithful with the little things,

Faithful to God.

 

May we live today – and each day – with the end in mind. Amen.

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[1] N.T. Wright, Luke for Everyone: 20th Anniversary Edition with Study Guide (The New Testament for Everyone) (p. 220). Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

[2] R. Kent Hughes, Luke (2 volumes in 1 / ESV Edition) (Preaching the Word) (p. 585). Crossway. Kindle Edition.

[3] William H. McRaven, Make Your Bed (p. 77). Grand Central Publishing. Kindle Edition.

“God’s Neighbor” (Luke 10:25-37)

Who Is God’s Neighbor?
One day a legal expert stood up to test Jesus, “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to gain eternal life?” At first, his question seems sincere, but his ulterior motive soon becomes clear. He isn’t asking because he genuinely seeks the answer—he is trying to justify himself. Yet Jesus, in his wisdom, turns this into a teaching moment.

Instead of answering directly, Jesus asks, “What is written in the Law? How do you interpret it?” The lawyer confidently replies, quoting the Scripture with ease: “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus affirms his answer, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live.” But the legal expert, still seeking to prove himself, asks, “Who is my neighbor?” And so, Jesus tells a story – a story that gently reveals the lawyer’s blind spot and answers the deeper question: Who is God’s neighbor? Who is the kind of person God is looking for?

Doers, Not Just Hearers
First, God is looking for “doers,” not just hearers. The lawyer is obsessed with being right. The priest and Levite in Jesus’ parable are also obsessed with being right. They feared becoming ceremonially “unclean” by touching a possibly dead body, so they chose to maintain their purity at the cost of showing God's mercy. But Jesus teaches that being loving is more important than being right.

In Jesus’ day, the Jews and the Samaritans hated each other. The hatred centered around racial purity. The Jews prided themselves on maintaining racial purity during the Babylonian captivity, while the Samaritans intermarried with Assyrian invaders. To the Jews, Samaritans were half-breeds and heretics, lacking proper scriptural knowledge. Yet in this parable, it is the Samaritan heretic who shows God’s mercy, while the knowledgeable priest and Levite walk away. The lawyer’s problem wasn’t ignorance of Scripture—it was failure to live it out. He knew exactly who his neighbor was, yet he kept asking more questions, postponing obedience. But the Bible says, “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves” (James 1:22, NRSV).

St. Thérèse of Lisieux, known as “The Little Flower,” embraced this truth. She always emphasized doing small things with great love. She believed holiness wasn’t found in grand gestures but in small, hidden acts done with love. In her convent, she was given simple, ordinary tasks – washing laundry, sweeping floors, and caring for the sick. None of it seemed important, but she chose to do each task with great love. One nun constantly irritated her, but instead of avoiding her or complaining, Thérèse chose to show kindness. She smiled, spoke gently, and served her with love. She was also assigned to cared for a grumpy, elderly nun. Instead of going through the motions, she saw Christ in her and serve with joy.

Others passed by, perhaps offering thoughts and prayers, but the Samaritan stopped. He didn’t just feel compassion—he acted on it. He bandaged wounds, carried the man, and paid for his care. He was a doer, not just a hearer.

Beginners, Not Professionals
Second, God is looking for beginners, not professionals. The lawyer was a professional. The priest and the Levite were all religious professionals. They believed they had everything figured out. But that can be a dangerous place to be. Pastor John Piper, in his book Brothers, We Are Not Professionals, emphasizes that pastors and all Christians should avoid a cold, professional approach to ministry and instead cultivate a deep, heartfelt passion for all God’s people.

Similarly, Steve Jobs famously said in his 2005 Stanford commencement speech, “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” In other words, never lose the eagerness to learn, to grow, to take risks—especially in love and compassion. The priest, Levite, and law expert were 'professionals'—they had it all figured out, and in doing so, they lost their compassion. But the Samaritan? He was an amateur, a beginner in love. He was unafraid to be 'foolish' in the world's eyes. He didn't let religious duty get in the way of mercy. He stayed hungry for righteousness and foolish enough to stop, risk, and help.

Personally, I once thought that the sermon preparation and church ministry would get easier with time – that I would figure it all out. But the reality is the opposite. It gets more and more difficult and complicated. Especially, nowadays as our church enters a new season of transition, I often feel uncertain, anxious, vulnerable. But because of that, I find myself on my knees more than ever, asking God for guidance. Every morning as soon as I get up, I run to the sanctuary, getting on my knees and ask God for help. There is no room for complacency. Though it’s challenging, I believe it’s a good place to be. Being a beginner keeps us humble, dependent, and teachable. We are always beginners in the school of faith.

Ordinary Angels, Not Superheroes
Third, God is looking for ordinary angels, not superheroes. In Jesus’ parable, the priest, Levite, and legal expert were important people—leaders, professionals, people in power. But when faced with a hurting man, they all walked away. The Samaritan? He wasn’t important. He wasn’t powerful. But he had compassion. He was willing. And notice—he didn’t act like a superhero. He didn’t do everything alone. He bandaged the man’s wounds, but then he brought him to an innkeeper and asked for help. He understood his limits. He knew he couldn’t do it all. That’s what we need today—not solo heroes, but an army of ordinary angels. People willing to be good neighbors, to do what they can, to lift each other up.

The recent movie Ordinary Angels, based on a true story, captures this beautifully. We see a small-town hairdresser, Sharon, who isn’t a doctor, a politician, or a powerful figure. She’s just an ordinary woman. She struggles with her own brokenness – alcohol addiction. But when she hears about a struggling widower, Ed, whose daughter needs a life-saving liver transplant, she decides to help. She doesn’t have all the resources or power, but she is willing. She has compassion—and that makes all the difference. She begins by simply showing up – attending the funeral for Ed’s wife and offering help. Then she rallies a whole community to step in. This story reminds us that helping others isn’t about being a hero; it’s about being available. The miracle comes through the collective effort of many ordinary angels: Sharon, her hair salon co-owner, members of her AA support group, Ed’s mother, his pastor, the church community, neighbors who shovel snow, a courageous helicopter pilot, skilled medical professionals, TV anchors, and even a CEO who offers his private jet. Each person plays a role in this tapestry of grace. It’s a story of “one beggar helping another beggar.”

Conclusion

This is the kind of person God is looking for:

• Not just hearers, but doers of the Word.
• Not professionals, but humble beginners.
• Not superheroes, but ordinary angels.

The Good Samaritan was God’s neighbor. So was St. Thérèse of Lisieux. So was Sharon from Ordinary Angels. And so can we be. May we go and do the same. May we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. Amen.

“One More Chance” (Luke 13:1-9)

 

*Light of the World painted by Holman Hunt

The Signs of the Times

This past weekend, we experienced something unusual—a record-breaking warm spell for this time of year. It felt almost like spring was coming early. But how do we really know when spring is coming? What signs do we look for? We recognize spring when we see the snow beginning to melt, the days growing longer, and tiny buds appearing on the trees. We hear birds singing again after months of silence. These signs tell us that change is near.

Jesus also spoke about signs—not of the seasons, but of the times. He urged people to be watchful, to recognize when God was calling them to repentance and renewal. Just as nature gives us clear signals of the coming spring, God gives us spiritual signs, calling us to turn back to him. Are we paying attention? Are we prepared for the season of change God is inviting us into?

 

Two Signs

In today’s passage we see two signs – two tragic events. First, some people came to Jesus and reported the news about the Galileans whom Pilate had killed while they were offering sacrifices. Though we don’t know all the details, we can reconstruct the event this way: This massacre likely took place in the temple during Passover. Pilate, suspecting that these Galilean pilgrims were inciting rebellion, sent his soldiers to suppress them without mercy. Jesus doesn’t give us the answer why this terrible event happened. But instead, he gently but powerfully redirects the focus. In Jesus’ time, many Jews looked down on Galileans, considering them second-class – somewhere between true Jews and Gentiles. When the Jews heard the news about the massacre, they assumed the Galileans must have been less faithful and deserving of such a fate. But Jesus confronted this mindset, saying, “Do you think that the suffering of these Galileans proves that they were more sinful than others? No, I tell you, but unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did” (v. 3, CEB).

What about natural catastrophes – unexplainable and mysterious? Jesus continued, “What about 18 people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them? Do you think that they were more guilty of wrongdoing than everyone else who lives in Jerusalem? No, I tell you, but unless you change your hearts and lives, you will die just as they did” (vv. 4-5).

Why do such tragedies happen in our lives? How can we make sense of them? The truth is, we can’t. We may understand when we get to heaven. But for now, Jesus doesn’t give us a direct answer. Instead, he urges us to consider what these events reveal: our own mortality. Life is fragile. Death is always near. Tragedies come to all. Sometimes unthinkable things befall the most godly and faithful. The real question is: Are we ready?

From today’s passage, we also learn a sobering truth – we are all sinners. Though we may compare ourselves to others, any difference between us is slight. We all fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). We are all guilty. We all deserve death. We all need repentance. We all need grace. Are we ready?

 

The Parable of the Fig Tree

Instead of answering their questions about suffering, Jesus tells a story—the parable of a fig tree. A man planted a fig tree in his garden. For three years, he watered it, fertilized it, and cared for it, yet it bore no fruit. Finally, he said to his gardener, “Cut it down. It’s just taking up space in the garden.” But the gardener replied, “Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down” (vv. 6-9, NLT).

In this story, the owner represents God’s justice. The gardener is Jesus – God’s mercy. We are the fig tree. We live today only by the grace of God, and we live for the purpose of bearing fruit. But what kind of fruit? First, personal fruit – the fruit of the Holy Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). Second, relational fruit – we are called to make disciples of Christ (Matthew 28:18-20). This parable calls us to examine ourselves: “Am I bearing fruit?”

 

One More Chance

Jesus, the Gardener, is merciful. He is for us, not against us. He desires us to be fruitful and ready for that Day. So he pleads with the owner – the Father, “Please give it one more chance. I will dig around it, and give it fertilizer.” John Bunyan, author of Pilgrim’s Progress, paraphrased this verse as follows: “Lord, I will loosen his roots; I will dig up this earth, I will lay his roots bare. My hand shall be upon him by sickness, by disappointments, by cross providences. I will dig about him until he stands shaking and tottering, until he be ready to fall.”[1] God doesn’t cause suffering, but in his great love, God allows trials to free us from our earthly attachments. He digs around us, shakes us, and calls us through life’s ups and downs, so that we may turn back to him and bear fruit.

Our default reaction to suffering and pain is often to blame others or even God. But what if suffering is a wake-up call? C. S. Lewis wisely wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

 

Fragmented Adam

One of my Lenten practices this year is reading a poem each day. This past Saturday, I read one that resonated deeply[2]: 

‘Adam, where are you?’

…

Fragmented Adam stares.

God’s hands

unseen, the whirling rides

dazzle, the lights blind him. Fragmented,

he is not present to himself. God

suffers the void that is his absence.

-        “On a Theme by Thomas Merton,” Denise Levertov

 

Since the fall, there has been a dark void between God and us. In this poem, our fallenness is described as our fragmented attention away from God. We are constantly distracted and inattentive to God. As I was reading this poem, I saw myself in this “fragmented Adam.” I find myself so easily distracted and not able to pay attention to God.

Henry Nouwen, a well-known spiritual director and Catholic priest, had taught at prestigious universities. But despite his academic success, he left those institutions and became a priest in residence for mentally and physically handicapped people at Daybreak community. In particular, Nouwen became a close friend of Adam, who was profoundly retarded and unable to speak, walk, or dress himself. Each day Nouwen took almost two hours to finish this task – bathing, shaving, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, helping him eat breakfast, and so on. Nouwen said it had been difficult for him to live with Adam at first. But he had learned to love Adam, truly to love him. In the process he had learned what it must be like for God to love us—spiritually uncoordinated, retarded, inarticulate, inattentive to God.[3] But Jesus, our Gardener, never gives up on us. He patiently works in our lives, shaping us, pruning us, and calling us to abide in him.

 

Responsible Grace

[*Showing the painting] The Light of the World, painted by Holman Hunt, is inspired by Revelation 3:20. Here, Jesus says to Laodicean Christians who think themselves rich, but in reality, they are miserable, poor, blind, and naked: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them, and they with me.” Notice that he is standing at the door, not forcing his way in. The door has no handle on the outside—only the one inside can open it. Christ knocks, but we must choose to let him in.

The Apostle Paul declares, “Now is the time. Today is the day of salvation!” He says this, not to unbelievers, but to Corinthian Christians. Salvation is not a one-time event – it is a lifelong journey. We don’t invite Jesus in just once; we open our hearts to him daily. Repentance is not a one-time decision; it is a way of life. Jesus is at the door, knocking and calling. He is waiting for you. Let your heart cry out:

 

Come in, come in,

Come into my heart, Lord Jesus.

Come in today, come in to stay

Come into my heart, Lord Jesus!

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[1] R. Kent Hughes, Luke (2 volumes in 1 / ESV Edition) (Preaching the Word) (p. 516). Crossway. Kindle Edition.

[2] Janet Morley, The Heart’s Time (Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London 2011), 10.

[3] Philip Yancey, “Yancey: The Holy Inefficiency of Henri Nouwen.”

“Saving the Saved” (Luke 10:38-42)

The Ivy Lee Method

One day in 1918, Charles Schwab, a powerful steel magnate, wanted to help his executives be more productive. So, he called in a consultant named Ivy Lee and asked, “Show me how to get more things done.”

 

Lee didn’t give a long lecture or a complicated formula. Instead, he offered a simple yet powerful method:

 

1.     At the end of each day, write down six important tasks for tomorrow—no more.

2.     Prioritize them in order of importance.

3.     The next day, start with the first task and don’t move on until it’s finished.

4.     Continue down the list, one task at a time.

5.     At the end of the day, move unfinished tasks to tomorrow’s list. Repeat.

 

Schwab tried it. After three months, he was so impressed that he wrote Lee a check for $25,000—a massive sum at the time.

 

Why was this method so valuable? Because it forced people to focus on what truly matters.

 

Martha

This principle reminds us of the well-known story of Martha and Mary in Luke 10. Church tradition often paints Martha as a symbol of the active life – busy with work and service, while Mary represents the contemplative life, focused on prayer and devotion. Even today, Martha is unfairly put down, and Mary is exalted as the ideal disciple. But in reality, both are women of excellence and noble character. Jesus loved both Martha and Mary. Both of them were devoted followers of Jesus. In fact, when their brother Lazarus died, it was Martha made one of the most profound confessions of faith in the entire Bible: “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, God’s Son, the one who is coming into the world” (John 11:27). This story is not about salvation. It’s not about who is right or wrong, who is better or worse. Instead, this story is about priorities. And in many ways, Martha represents so many of us – people who love Jesus but get caught up in the urgent rather than the essential. Martha is you. Martha is me.

 

Drifting Away

Martha had a beautiful gift of hospitality. When she heard that Jesus was coming to town, she welcomed him and his disciples with open arms. But then, Luke tells us that Martha was “distracted” by her many tasks (v. 40a, NRSV). The Greek word for “distracted” means to be pulled away or to be dragged in different directions. It’s not that Martha didn’t want to hear Jesus – of course, she did! But she kept being pulled away by all the tasks that needed to be done. Her sense of duty became greater than her desire. She convinced herself that true devotion meant doing things for Jesus rather than being with Jesus.

 

Tim Keller wisely observed, “Idolatry means turning a good thing into an ultimate thing.” That’s what happened to Martha. Her good work became her ultimate focus, pulling her away from what mattered most. The same thing happens to us. We become distracted by too many good things—work, responsibilities, commitments, even ministry. But Jesus calls us to choose what is best. The question is: Are we prioritizing the urgent or the essential?

 

A Smoldering Heart

Martha made her choice, and the consequences followed. Because she was overwhelmed with duties, her heart became resentful. She started to smolder with frustration.

 

When we drift way from Jesus, it’s only a matter of time before frustration turns into blame. Martha first blamed Mary for being so selfish. Then, she turned her frustration toward Jesus. So she went up to Jesus and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me” (v. 40b). Not only was she upset with her sister, but she was also accusing Jesus—the very one she was serving—of being unfair. This is what happens when our priorities get out of order. When we are distracted, we become discouraged. When we are discouraged, we become bitter. And bitterness often leads us to question even the goodness of God.

 

The Antidote

So, what is the antidote for a distracted, smoldering heart? Jesus gives the answer himself: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.” (vv. 41-42). We are busy today. We will be busy tomorrow. There will be always responsibilities. But among the thousand duties we must do, there is one thing that must come first: sitting at the feet of Jesus. J. C. Ryle put it well, “Mary’s choice was good in sickness and good in health,— good in youth and good in age,— good in adversity and good in prosperity,— good in life and good in death— good in time and good in eternity.”[1]

 

Our culture constantly demands our attention. News, social media, emails, phone notifications—everything is urgent. We have become a multitasking generation, but no matter how much we do, we never feel caught up. Lent is a season to slow down and intentionally choose the essential over the urgent—to choose Jesus first before anything else.

 

Billy Graham once shared a story about his father-in-law, Dr. Nelson Bell. When Bell served as the only doctor for a 400-bed hospital in China, he made it a point to wake up every morning at 4:30 am and spend two to three hours alone with God. He didn’t use that time to read commentaries or write; he didn’t do any of his other work. He simply read the Scriptures and prayed every morning. Many wondered at his holiness and wisdom. But his strength came from his “one thing”—sitting at the feet of Jesus first.

 

A Time for Everything

There is a time for everything. A time to work and a time to listen. A time to serve and a time to sit at Jesus’ feet. Martha’s mistake was not her service but her timing. She did not realize that, at the moment, Jesus needed her presence more than her service. Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem to suffer and die, yet she was too distracted to see it.

 

Mary, however, understood. She listened, she watched, and she learned. Then she sensed his time was coming. Later, when Jesus was at another dinner, Mary took a jar of costly perfume—worth a year’s wages—and anointed Jesus, pouring it over his head and feet. The disciples were confused, but Jesus said, “She has anointed my body beforehand for burial” (Mark 14:8). Mary’s love led her to the right action at the right time.

 

Living as a Harpooner

Eugene Peterson once compared Christians to harpooners. In Herman Melville's Moby Dick, there is a turbulent scene. All the sailors in a whaleboat are laboring fiercely, every muscle taut, all attention and energy concentrated on the task, in pursuit of the great, white whale, Moby Dick. In this boat, however, there is one person who does nothing. He doesn't hold an oar; he doesn't perspire; he doesn't shout. This man is the harpooner, quiet and poised, waiting. And then this sentence:

 

"To insure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooners of this world must start to their feet out of idleness, and not out of toil.”[2]

 

We, too, are called to be harpooners. We live in a fast-paced, chaotic world, but if we are constantly distracted and exhausted, we won’t be ready when it’s time to act. There is a time to wait and a time to move. A time to listen and a time to serve. A time to sit at Jesus’ feet and a time to go into the world. Life is short. May we choose the “one thing” today – hear the word first, then do the word. And repeat. Amen.

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[1] R. Kent Hughes, Luke (2 volumes in 1 / ESV Edition) (Preaching the Word) (p. 409). Crossway. Kindle Edition.

[2] Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor: Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Eerdmans Publshing, 1989), Kindle Locations 221-225.

“Transformed: One Degree at a Time” (Luke 9:28-36)

 

The Great Stone Face

There’s a famous short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne called The Great Stone Face. It’s about a boy named Ernest who grows up in a small village where there is a huge rock formation on the side of a mountain. The people in the village believe that this great rock looks like the face of a wise and noble person. And there’s an old prophecy—one day, someone will come who looks like that face, and he will bring wisdom and goodness to the people.

 

Young Ernest is captivated by this promise. He watches and waits, longing to see the great person. Over the years, several important figures come to town—Mr. Gathergold, a wealthy businessman; Old Blood-and-Thunder, a celebrated general; and Mr. Old Stony Phiz, a well-known politician. Each time, the villagers wonder, Could this be the one? But each one falls short.

 

Time passes. Ernest grows old. He has lived a quiet, faithful life—once a hill farmer, now a humble lay preacher. He spends his days speaking truth, serving others, and walking with integrity. One evening, standing beneath the Great Stone Face, he shares words of wisdom with the people. And suddenly, they realize something—his face, his character, his life, shaped by years of kindness, wisdom, and devotion, now resembles the Great Stone Face. The villagers cry out in amazement, but Ernest, in his humility, simply walks home, still believing that a greater one is yet to come.

 

Jesus Transformed

This story beautifully illustrates the slow, steady transformation that happens in a Christian’s life. In today’s passage, Jesus takes Peter, John, and James up a mountain to pray. As He prays, his face changes, and his clothes become dazzling white. Then, two men—Moses and Elijah—appear and talk with him.

 

Why Moses and Elijah? Many Bible teachers say they represent the Old Testament—Moses as the giver of the Law and Elijah as the great prophet. But they also share something else in common: both had mountaintop encounters with God’s glory. Moses saw God’s glory on Mount Sinai (Exodus 31:18), and Elijah encountered God on Mount Horeb, another name for Sinai (1 Kings 19:8ff.).

 

The Journey to Congruence

Now, Peter, John, and James have also seen God’s glory (v. 32). In Matthew’s account, Jesus commands them not to tell anyone about the vision until he is raised from the dead (Matthew 17:9). Why? Because their mountaintop experience was not something to boast about—it was meant to transform them.

 

In our spiritual journey, God gives us glimpses of his glory—moments of radical conversion, miraculous healing, or deep spiritual encounters. These mountaintop experiences encourage us, but true transformation happens over time. In 2 Corinthians 3:18, Paul says, “We are being transformed into the same image [of Christ] from one degree of glory to another.” Not instantly, but one degree at a time.

 

Think about Israel at Mount Sinai. They saw God’s glory and received his holy Law, but did that instantly make them a holy people? No. Though their status changed from slaves to God’s chosen people instantly, it took years for their hearts to align with their calling. Their wilderness journey was a journey of gradual transformation—one step at a time. Every morning, they gathered manna. Every evening, they picked up quail. In between, they worshiped, followed the pillar of cloud, and waited on the Lord. Through these daily rhythms, they learned to trust God. Slowly and steadily, they were shaped into God’s holy people—one degree at a time.

 

Peter’s Transformation

Peter’s journey was no different. Right before today’s passage, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter boldly replies, “You are the Christ, the Son of God!” (Luke 9:20). But when Jesus explains that he must suffer, be rejected, and die, Peter rebukes him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” (Matthew 16:22). Peter’s faith was real, but there was a gap between what he believed and how he lived.

 

On the mountain, Peter sees Jesus’ glory, but instead of humbly worshiping, he blurts out, “Master, it is good that we are here! Let us make three tents—one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” (Luke 9:33). Again, there’s a gap between his spiritual experience and his understanding.

But Peter grows. In 2 Peter 1:16-18, he recounts his mountaintop experience with conviction, declaring that he was an eyewitness to Jesus’ majesty. Over time, Peter is transformed into a man of deep faith, wisdom, and congruence.

 

One Degree at a Time

When Jesus was transfigured on the mountain, his glory was revealed in an instant. But for his disciples—and for us—transformation is a lifelong journey. We are shaped into Christ’s likeness not through mountaintop experiences, but through daily faithfulness, prayer, and surrender—one degree at a time.

 

I once heard a story about a man who came to his pastor and said, “I don’t know what’s wrong. The joy I once had in my faith is gone. I still live a moral life, I go to church, but something is missing. How can I recover that lost radiance of my faith?” His pastor responded, “Here’s what I want you to do: buy a basketful of groceries, take them to a poor family I know, and when you’ve given your gift, sit and listen to their story. Let them know you care. Before you leave, pray the Lord’s Prayer with them. Then you’ll find your joy returning.” One degree at a time.

 

Recently, God nudged me to realign certain areas of my life—my devotional time, my study habits, my finances. As I obeyed, I felt a deep sense of joy, satisfaction, and contentment. That’s how transformation happens – one degree at a time.

 

Christ Alone

Luke concludes todays’ story with these words: “And when the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone.” (v. 36). “Jesus alone”— He is the center of everything. Union with Christ is everything. As we look to Jesus, listen to Jesus, walk with Jesus, and align our hearts with Jesus, we are gradually transformed into his image.

 

Henri Nouwen once met Mother Teresa and poured out his struggles to her, trying to convince her of how complicated it all was!  After listening patiently, she said, “Well, when you spend one hour a day adoring your Lord and never do anything you know is wrong, you will be fine.” Nouwen later reflected, “Her words cut to the center of my being. I knew they were true, and I had the rest of my life to live them out.”[1]

 

Spending one hour a day with Christ—this should be our top priority. If you haven’t built this daily habit yet, Lent is the perfect time to start. As we walk with the Lord, day by day, we will be transformed – one degree at a time. And when the Day comes, when we meet him in glory, our transformation will be complete. We will stand with Moses, Elijah, Peter, all the saints and our loved ones—fully united with Christ, forever. Amen.

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[1] Henri J. M. Nouwen, Here and Now, The Crossroad Publishing Company. Kindle Edition, 102-3.

“The Power of One” (Luke 6:27-36)

 Gandhi and the Boy

There is a well-known story about Mahatma Gandhi. One day, a woman brought her son to him and said, "Sir, my son eats too much sugar. Would you please tell him to stop?" Gandhi paused and then replied, "Please bring your child back in a week." Confused but trusting his wisdom, the mother returned a week later with her son. This time, Gandhi simply looked at the boy and said, "Stop eating sugar, child." To the mother’s surprise, the boy listened and changed his habit. A month later, the mother returned and asked, "My child has done what you asked, but why couldn’t you have told him this the first time we came?" Gandhi gently replied, "A week ago, I was still eating sugar." Gandhi knew he could not ask the boy to do something he himself had not yet done. His words needed to match his actions.

 

Jesus and the Pharisees

This story reminds us of the difference between Jesus and the religious leaders of His time. Matthew tells us how the people responded after Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in this way: “When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, for he taught with real authority - quite unlike their teachers of religious law” (Matthew 7:28-29, NLT). The Pharisees spoke one thing, but their lives often told a different story. Jesus, however, spoke with true authority because His words and His actions were one. There was no gap between what He taught and how He lived. His life was the Word made flesh. When Jesus spoke, people didn’t just hear truth—they saw it in Him.

Is the Sermon Practical?  

Today’s passage is part of the Sermon on the Mount, following the Beatitudes. Here, Jesus expounds on what the Beatitudes look like in everyday life.

 

“Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, offer the other cheek also. If someone demands your coat, offer your shirt also. Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don’t try to get them back. Do to others as you would like them to do to you” (Luke 6:27-31, NLT).

 

Is Jesus’ sermon practical? Attainable? Jesus lived it - He loved and forgave, even those crucifying him, saying, “Father, forgive them!” But can we do that? Sometimes, we struggle to love even our own families, let alone our enemies.

 

I once read a piece titled, “Father Forgets” in Reader’s Digest. It’s about a young father who regrets how he treated his son throughout the day. After the boy fell asleep, he knelt beside his bed, shamed. A portion of his reflection reads:

 

“Son, I have come to your bed side in the darkness, I have knelt there, ashamed! It is a feeble atonement… tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, suffer when you suffer and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy – a little boy.” I am afraid I have visualized you as a man… I have asked too much, too much!”

 

I don’t know about you, but I often feel this kind of remorse at the end of the day. How many times have I resolved to be a better person tomorrow? William Temple illustrated this well: “It is no good giving me a play like Hamlet or King Lear, and telling me to write a new play just like it. Shakespeare could do it; I can’t. And it is no good showing me a life like the life of Jesus and telling me to live a life just like it. Jesus could do it; I can’t. But if the genius of Shakespeare could come and live inside me, I would then be able to write plays like he did. And if the Spirit of Jesus could come and live inside me, I would then be able to live a life like he did.”[1]

This is the open secret of how to live as a Christian. Jesus’ sermon is impossible to live out by sheer effort. But if we allow His Spirit to transform us, everything changes. Christ’s sermon is not about outward behavior, but it’s about an inner change of the heart.

 

Light of the World

As part of his sermon, Jesus tells us, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

 

What does it mean to live as the light? What does it look like? The other day my family and I watched Woodlawn. It tells the true story of Tony Nathan, a talented high school football players in the 1960s and 70s. Though he was an exceptional athlete, he was often benched simply because he was Black. He endured discrimination and humiliation—until something miraculous happened. Revival began—not with a coach or a teacher, but one man who called himself a “sports chaplain.” He prayed for and cared about the school and the football team, and transformation began, one heart at a time. The real change wasn’t external—it was internal. The team began to play, not for their own glory, success, or future, but for something greater—God’s will, His kingdom, and His glory. Even their opponents were transformed.

 

At times, I feel insignificant. I struggle with doubt. I wonder if true revival is possible. Voices whisper, "It’s just temporary," "People don’t really change," "It’s too late," "It’s too hard." But then I remember: God is still at work today. A miracle can happen when God shows up. Here’s a reflection from my journal after watching Woodlawn:

 

“Lord, I am weak. I feel powerless and insignificant. In the complexities of the UMC structure, I struggle to speak truth and navigate the system. I don’t know how to help revitalize aging local churches. But Lord, I will stand. I will follow. I will light my candle. I will keep praying, keep showing up, keep loving and forgiving. I will place my hope and trust in You. Fill me, use me, and send me for Your glory. Amen.”

 

During Explo ‘72, Billy Graham preached on the Sermon on the Mount. He once had the stadium lights turned off. Then, one person lit their candle and passed it on, showing how light spreads in darkness. He said, “You may feel insignificant. But think about a candle—you can see its light from afar. And one candle becomes two; two become four; four become ten; ten become hundreds.”

 

You might be the only Christian in your family, workplace, or school. You may feel insignificant. But one single candle in the dark can be seen from far away. Imagine if hundreds of people each held a light—the entire space would glow. This is how revival begins.

 

At this time, we will light candles as a reminder. Once everyone has received the light, we will sing “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus.” May we shine, even when it feels small. May we pass the flame. May we be willing to stand and be different. May this song be our prayer. Amen.

 

I have decided to follow Jesus;

I have decided to follow Jesus;

I have decided to follow Jesus;

No turning back, no turning back.

 

The world behind me, the cross before me;

The world behind me, the cross before me;

The world behind me, the cross before me;

No turning back, no turning back.

 

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

No turning back, no turning back.

 

                                                                       

 

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[1] John Stott, Basic Christianity (The IVP Signature Collection) (p. 123). InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition.

“Life of a Disciple” (Luke 6:17-26)

 

*Painted by Joyce Kang, "Psalm 84:5"

Walking in Circles?

Today is a snow day, so let me begin with a story about winter weather. Years ago, a man went missing in the Alps. For 13 days, he desperately searched for a village, walking more than 12 hours a day in terrible weather. He thought he was making progress, but in reality, he had been walking in circles within a 4-mile radius. Scientists tell us that when people walk with their eyes closed, they naturally move in circles without realizing it.

 

But here’s the fascinating part—there is a way to walk straight. If you pause regularly to reorient yourself, even with your eyes closed, you can stay on course. The problem wasn’t that the man was too slow—it was that he never stopped to check his direction. By God’s grace, today’s scripture is given to us as a wake-up call – a chance to stop and reorient ourselves. Today’s passage, Luke version of the Beatitudes, challenges us to ask three essential questions. 

 

Disciples Vs. Crowds

The first question is this: “Am I living as a disciple, or as a part of the crowd?” Right before today’s passage, Luke tells us how Jesus chose his twelve apostles. Then we read:

 

“Jesus came down from the mountain with them and stood on a large area of level ground. A great company of his disciples and a huge crowd of people from all around Judea and Jerusalem and the area around Tyre and Sidon joined him there” (Luke 6:17, CEB).

 

There were always two groups following Jesus: the disciples and the crowds. The crowds in Luke 6 followed Jesus, hoping for blessings, miracles, healings, and quick solutions (v. 19). But Jesus turns to his disciples and teaches them. So the Beatitudes and the entire Sermon on the Mount are not for the curious crowds but for committed disciples.

 

Here, we can see a parallel between Moses and Jesus. God chose the twelve tribes of Israel and made them his special people. God gave them Moses as their leader, who received the law on Mount Sinai and taught them how to live as God’s people. In the same way, Jesus chose the twelve apostles on the Mount as the nucleus of a new Israel. Then he taught them and other disciples what it means to be disciples.

 

If we sum up the entire Old Testament law into one phrase, it is: “Be holy” (Ex 19:6; Lev 21:8). Or, put another way: “Be different,” or “Be peculiar.” If we sum up Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount into one phrase, it would be Matthew 6:8: “Do not be like them.” It’s a call to be different. “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God--what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2, NRSV). Be transformed. Be different. Be a disciple. Then, what is a disciple? A disciple is someone who lives out God’s kingdom values – the Beatitudes.

 

Life Vs. Death

That leads to the second question: “Am I choosing life or death?” In Deuteronomy, Moses gives his farewell sermon. He knows he will not enter the Promised Land, so he gives his final words to Israel’s second generation. And the key message is this: “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your children may live” (Deut 30:19).

 

In the same way, Jesus sets before us two paths – life and death, 4 blessings and 4 woes. Jesus teaches a paradoxical truth:

 

Blessed are the poor, the hungry, the weeping, the persecuted – not because suffering is good, but because they know their need for God.

 

Woe to the rich, the satisfied, the laughing, the applauded – not because these things are bad, but because they can blind us from seeing our true need.

 

Richard Rohr, in his book Falling Upward, tells the story of a man who spent his life building his reputation and career, thriving in the "first half" of life. He had success, financial stability, and a strong sense of identity in his achievements. But then, everything collapsed – his business failed, his marriage ended, and he lost what he thought defined him. At first, he saw this as a curse. But over time, this crisis stripped away his illusions of control. Through this painful process, he moved from being part of the crowd—trying harder to chase security and approval—to becoming a disciple—learning to trust in God’s grace.

 

When we realize that we are poor, we are hungry, we are not enough, we need help – then we are blessed, because that’s when God becomes our help, our life.

 

Eternity Vs. Now

Finally, we must ask: “Am I living for eternity, or just for now?” Many people today are like the lost man in the Alps. They were moving, searching, wanting more, but never stopping to ask: “Where is my life actually heading?” But without stopping to listen to Jesus, we may just be walking in circles. We may be just living for now.

 

A wild duck was flying north with his flock in the spring when he stopped in a Danish barnyard. There, he found tame ducks and plenty of food. He thought, I’ll rest for a while. But one hour became a day, then a week, then a month. Eventually, he decided to stay all summer, enjoying the safety and easy life of the barnyard. Then autumn came. One day, he heard the call of his old flock flying south. His heart leapt with excitement, and he flapped his wings to join them. But he had grown soft and heavy from his easy life. He could only lift himself to the barn’s roof before falling back down. So he told himself, Well, at least I’m safe here, and the food is good. Year after year, the wild ducks flew overhead, calling to him. At first, he would feel a stirring inside and try to flap his wings. But over time, he stopped noticing them at all.[1]

 

May we never be domesticated! May we never grow so comfortable and well-fed that we lose our hunger for “the things that are above” (Colossians 3: 1, 2).

 

Falling Upward Journey

It may surprise you to know that professional mountain climbers begin their ascent around midnight. This seems counterintuitive—after all, midnight is when our bodies are at their weakest, when exhaustion is greatest. Yet, for high-altitude climbs, midnight is the safest time. The snow is frozen solid, reducing the risk of avalanches. What feels like the darkest and hardest moment is often the best time to move forward.

 

Perhaps today, you feel like you are in a valley of disappointment. Maybe you’re weary, struggling to endure. But in God’s eyes, this difficult season might be a golden opportunity—a time when your heart is most open to encountering Christ in a deeper, more powerful way. When the night feels longest, let us remember—this may be the very moment God is leading us deeper and higher.

 

Before we leave today, let’s ask ourselves:

·       Am I living as a disciple, or just part of the crowd?

·       Am I choosing life, or settling for what is easy?

·       Am I living for eternity, or just for now?

 

Jesus' words still ring true: “Blessed are you who are poor, hungry, weeping, and persecuted because of the Son of Man… Rejoice when that happens! Leap for joy because you have a great reward in heaven.” Amen.

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[1] R. Kent Hughes, Luke (2 volumes in 1 / ESV Edition) (Preaching the Word) (p. 224). Crossway. Kindle Edition.