Is it easier to be a proclaimer of God’s truth in prosperity or in tough times? The answer is probably this: “Neither is easier. They’re just different.”

On the prosperity side, maybe you don’t have to struggle for the basic needs of life. You live comfortably. You may not face outright physical persecution. The enemy of the faith can be sneakier, and within – within our own country, our own churches, our own selves.

Amos was a prophet who ministered during a prosperous time in the history of God’s Old Testament people. Yes, the Kingdom had divided into north (Israel) and south (Judah), but both territories were doing well. He looked around him and saw people – especially the leadership – lounging on couches, dining on choice foods, strumming away on musical instruments, and drinking wine by the bowlful. They were complacent and living a decadent life. The worst attitude was that of . . . . not grieving over the ruin of Joseph (Amos 6:6). Their country and people were going down the tubes, and they didn’t care!

So, Amos invites them to look around at other great cities around them – Kalneh, Hamath, and Gath – and make a comparison. Israel and Judah were prospering, but were they any better than these other cities spiritually? Could they not fall just like any other nation had?

Christians are often saddened by the spiritual state of our country. Are we doing any better than countries around us, especially those we might have considered “less godly” at one point? We have prosperity that was unthinkable in the past. Is it possible that our own nation could lose that? These are uncomfortable questions, but ones Amos leads us to ask.

It starts with us. Do we fall into spiritual complacency? Is our passion the same as that of Christ who came to seek and to save the lost (Luke 19:10)? Let’s be renewed and refreshed in God’s grace in Christ! We have a God who sought us out and redeemed us. We are sent to spread the light of our Savior. We are called to be active in having conversations about our faith and engaging our neighbors, children and friends with the eternal Word of God. We do grieve any spiritual decline, and we’re not complacent. We are messengers of gospel hope who trust that God will bless his Word.

You drink wine by the bowlful and use the finest lotions, but you do not grieve over the ruin of Joseph. (Amos 6:6)

What Does It Mean to Be Shrewd in God’s Kingdom?

Most parables Jesus told give us a clear example to follow like the Good Samaritan who helps his neighbor. Or there’s a clear warning like with the Rich Fool who trusts in wealth. But then we come to the Parable of the Shrewd Manager (Luke 16:1-15). What do we do with him? This man, the manager, is not a hero. He wastes his master’s possessions. When he’s about to lose his job, he refuses manual labor and comes up with a plan. He lowers the debts of others so they’ll treat him well later. To us it looks unethical. Yet Jesus says he is commended for being shrewd.

They say that when Uber began the company went into cities without permission, built a user base, and only then dealt with regulators. Not exactly ethical, but ambitious and determined to build their future. Those are the qualities Jesus points to – not dishonesty, but zeal, wisdom, and a view to the future.

If people and companies are so intense about securing their earthly future, shouldn’t Christians be even more zealous about how they live under God? Too often we treat our faith passively, as though drifting along is enough. But Jesus calls us to ambitious . . . . use of the resources God has entrusted to us—for generosity, for service, for building up his Kingdom.

The verses that follow the parable make it clear that this has nothing to do with greed or materialism. “You cannot serve both God and money.” The Pharisees thought riches proved God’s blessing. Jesus says true blessing is knowing how to use wealth shrewdly as an expression of faith.

At the same time, we remember that in the end, the manager had to trust the mercy of his master. So do we. Our standing before God does not rest on our shrewdness, but on Christ’s grace. His cross secures our eternal dwelling. To serve him as our only master with all we have is true shrewdness.
 

No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money. (Luke 16:13)

The Pharisees and their companions often gave Jesus good reasons to launch into a teaching or a parable of some kind. In Luke 15 their complaints about his close association with “sinners” led to three parables in a row about being lost and being found.

Let’s just take the first of the three, “The Parable of the Lost Sheep” (Luke 15:1-7). When one sheep goes astray, the shepherd is not content to let it happen. Even though there are ninety-nine others, the one that is lost is not disposable. There’s no thought of just going out and replacing it with another, more “obedient” sheep.

The appeal of keeping our churches “neat” and “tidy” is strong. It makes things easier for us. A self-righteous church is also overly . . . . concerned about protecting its image and feels some pride in whispering judgment on others. That in no way reflects the church Jesus set up, though. Are we a welcoming church ready to throw a party of grace for wanderers who are brought home by the Holy Spirit?

There’s also an implication there in the Pharisees’ complaints that the people they looked down on were in the category of “sinners,” while the Pharisees and others were not. This attitude made these self-righteous religious leaders more lost than anyone, because they did not even recognize their own “lostness” or look to the Messiah for salvation.

We have been welcomed in God’s grace. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Despite our own sins, Jesus has sought us out and has given us the blessings of forgiveness and the resurrection through faith in him.

The Pharisees meant their words to be a criticism: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Without knowing it they were proclaiming God’s love and the heart of the gospel for us and for all.

Jesus welcomed sinners. We are a church that does too!
 

2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” … 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. (Luke 15:2,7)

Philemon is a very short book and seems to be mostly an everyday letter about an everyday topic. Some might question its usefulness or even its right to be in the Bible at all. But then God inspired it to be there so he must have a purpose in mind.

A close read of the letter to Philemon shows it to be a very gospel-oriented correspondence. Paul’s words in verse 18, “charge it to me,” are an echo of the heart of the gospel. Paul is willing to bear the debt of Onesimus because Christ bore our debt before God.

The whole letter is a living illustration of . . . . Christian sacrifice for the sake of reconciliation. Each of the three men involved are called on to willingly “take on someone else’s debt” for the good of the others.

The Apostle Paul writes from prison, already suffering for the gospel. Yet even there, he sacrifices further by sending away Onesimus, who had become like a “son” to him in faith (v. 10).

Onesimus was a runaway slave. For him it was no small step to follow the apostle’s advice and return to the house of his master Philemon where he could potentially face anger or worse. He trusted in God’s grace and the appeal Paul makes on his behalf.

Then Philemon is asked to receive Onesimus not as a slave but a brother in Christ. This does not seem to us to be such a difficult request, but at the time it would upend social norms and possibly cause financial loss. His response in Christian love would be one of mercy, not justice.

Faith in Christ changes all our relationships. We continually go back to his willingness to charge our offenses to him. As Isaiah, the prophet, reminds us: But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). At the cross, he absorbed the full cost of our rebellion so that we might be reconciled to the Father and to one another.

We can forgive others’ wrongs to us. We can humbly give up our own comfort for the sake of reconciliation. Paul’s “charge it to me” ultimately points us back to Christ.

17 So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. 18 If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me. … 25 The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.
(Philemon 1:17-18,25)

You want to sell a kitchen table on Facebook Marketplace because you just bought a new one. You publish the pictures and the price. A buyer comes over, takes a look, and decides to go for it. He or she walks away with the table. You receive some cash. This feels completely normal. It’s called a transaction.

We know all about business. Everything has a dollar cost. We’ve noticed for a while now, though, that the “transaction” mindset can too easily bleed over into many people relationships where it doesn’t belong. Our world often runs on “what’s in it for me?” Transactional relationships dominate—from business networking to social media “likes,” to even friendships built on convenience. That shouldn’t feel normal, because it’s not.

If you invite someone to a meal who cannot pay you back, you’re acting beyond a transaction. It takes God-given humility. Jesus calls his disciples to give in a way that does nothing to advance their own status. In his day, banquets were often about reputation—whom you invited, whom you sat with, how it would reflect on you. Inviting the poor or crippled would not raise your standing. In fact, it might lower it.

Jesus does promise repayment “at the resurrection of the righteous.” But we have to be clear: this is not a transaction with God. We don’t earn eternal life by our generosity. Otherwise, it would fall back into the very mindset Jesus warns against. The resurrection is pure gift, given for the sake of Christ’s death and resurrection. Our acts of humble generosity flow from that grace. And that frees us to give without calculating, trusting God’s overflowing generosity toward us. Who could use a gift without cost from you?

But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. (Luke 14:13–14)

Have you ever walked up to a door and wondered if you should even knock? It’s the house of a neighbor couple. One you’ve never talked to before. One who seems grumpy most of the time, and probably doesn’t want to talk to you. But you feel obligated to invite them to the cookout you’re hosting. They can’t be the only ones on the block that doesn’t get an invitation, can they? You approach slowly, heart pounding, hand raised timidly – half hoping no one will answer. What if they don’t want you there?

That is what it feels like to come before a holy God on our own. His law exposes every sin. His holiness is too bright for us to stand in. Left to ourselves, we approach His door timidly, uncertain whether he will welcome us or turn us away. Abel’s blood, spilled by his brother, still cried out to God for justice. And our sins, too, cry out against us that justice must be done.
Hebrews 12 points us to a different voice: You have come … to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel (12:23-24) Jesus’ blood does not cry out for justice. It proclaims mercy. It forgives and opens wide the door to God’s grace.

So now, when we come to God, we need not creep forward timidly. The next time guilt makes you hesitant, remember that the blood of Jesus speaks a better word. Approach boldly, not because you are worthy, but because he is. Worthy to save. Worthy to welcome us to his home.

You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, 24to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. (Hebrews 12:23-24)

Not all wounds are bad. A skilled surgeon takes a deadly sharp scalpel and cuts through flesh and muscle. The result of that wound: not harm, but healing. In the same way, we often say that words cut us to the heart. Words can wound. Sometimes, however, those painful words provide the very healing we need.

“Jesus went through the towns and villages, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem” (Luke 13:22). Jesus knows that when he gets to Jerusalem, he is going to die. So, with a sense of extreme urgency, Jesus shares truths we need to hear, even though it hurts to hear them. In this series, we might not like everything that Jesus says. Yet, to ignore what Jesus teaches is to court eternal death. Hard as it may be, let us listen and take all that Jesus says to heart. For while Jesus speaks words that wound us, his intent is to heal our very soul.