Subscribe
Share
Share
Embed
Weekly sermons from the traditional and contemporary worship services at Church of the Incarnation in Dallas, Texas. Rooted in Scripture and the Anglican tradition, these messages explore how the gospel speaks to our faith, our everyday lives and the world around us.
Church,
every one of us knows what it's like to long for God's comfort
while quietly hesitating at the changes his love calls us to make.
We cherish the rest of Psalm 23, we cling to the peace of
Philippians 4, we even hope in the promises of Isaiah
25. But when the King gently calls us to grow, to
repent, to release old patterns, to put on the
garment of righteousness, something in us pauses,
resists, whispers, "Maybe later."
And here's the danger. We can begin to treat God's
preceding grace, his invitation, his welcome, his open
door, as if it were permission to stay exactly as we are.
We can assume that because God invited us, God is already
satisfied with us. But the collect we prayed this morning prays that
God's grace would precede and follow us, not
to keep us comfortable, but so we may continually be given to good
works. In other words, grace doesn't simply open the
door. Grace transforms the guest.
Across our scriptures this morning, we see God exposing a reality that we cannot
afford to ignore. The King who invites
freely also inspects thoroughly.
He welcomes generously, but he transforms relentlessly.
He calls us to his table, but he demands that we wear the garment of
kingdom righteousness. God's preceding grace
opens the door to the royal banquet, but his pursuing grace
demands that you put on the garment of kingdom righteousness.
Before we talk about this garment, we need to face a deeper truth.
That is, you cannot wear what you have not received.
You cannot put on righteousness until you first admit you have
none. And the only reason any of us can even come near the
banquet hall is because the King moved toward us when we were
moving or not moving toward him. So let's begin where
scripture begins, with the breathtaking, undeserved initiative of
God's preceding grace.
Isaiah reveals a millennial feast that is nothing less than
extravagant. We read it this morning.
Rich food, aged wine, choice meats, a table
overflowing with abundance that we did not earn.
And Jesus, he picks up this same imagery in Matthew chapter 22.
He says, a king preparing a royal wedding feast for his son.
But here's the tension that is in this text.
Everything is ready, but nobody wants to come.
The dignitaries shrug, the privileged ignore the summons.
The invited guests treat the king's invitation like we treat junk mail.
And what does the king do? He does not cancel the feast.
He escalates the invitation. He sends his servants into the
crossroads, to the forgotten, the unworthy, the bad, and the good, to
people who never imagined that they would be welcomed in a palace.
That is preceding grace. Grace that finds you in
your poverty, summons you in your unworthiness, and invites you to a
feast that you could never afford.
Jesus's message is for those who walked in this morning convinced that your
past disqualifies you, your failures feel too heavy, your history
feels too messy, your shame even feels too loud.
But preceding grace means God invited you.
Before you cleaned up, before we even repented, before we even
realized that we were starving. Come to Christ as you are.
But we have to understand, the King loves us too much to allow us
to stay as we are.
Preceding grace gets us in the door, but once we step inside his
kingdom, once we sit at his table, once we taste the goodness of
God, that's when the battle begins.
Because the moment that we enter the banquet hall, the world starts
pulling at our sleeves. Old habits begin
to whisper. Old sins start to call our name.
Enemies begin to circle the perimeter.
So the question becomes, who keeps us from drifting back?
Who guards us when fear arises? Who chases you when
temptation hunts you? That's where pursuing
grace comes in. Grace that doesn't just welcome you but
tracks you, protects you, and refuses to let you go.
Let's look at Psalm 23 and Philippians 4, where God reveals the
relentless guardrails of his pursuing grace.
In Psalm 23, David moves from the pasture to the banquet hall.
"You prepare a table before me," he says, "in the presence of my
enemies." Not in the absence of my enemies, but in their presence.
David is eating while danger watches.
He is feasting while threats breathe around him.
He is anointed while adversaries glare through the window.
But how does he stay calm? How does he remain faithful?
How does he stay seated at the table?
This is where David gives us the secret.
"Surely," he says, "goodness and mercy shall follow me all
the days of my life." In our English translation, follow is too
soft. In the Hebrew, that word literally means to chase, to hunt,
to pursue with intensity. David is saying God's goodness and
mercy are not strolling behind us.
They are hunting us down with holy determination.
It's typical of every parent who has children.
When a child is racing off out of their protection, we naturally chase after
them, not knowing what has their attention, but knowing that they're in danger, so
we do everything we can to bring them back.
When fear tries to pull us off the path, goodness runs after us.
When temptation tries to lure us away, mercy hunts us down.
When anxiety tries to choke out our joy, pursuing grace
grabs us by the soul and drags us back to safety.
Paul then picks up this theme in Philippians chapter 4.
He says, "Do not be anxious about anything." A better translation is
simply have no anxiety. That's not a suggestion, it is
a command. Have no anxiety. Instead, pray.
Instead, give thanks. Instead, lift up your requests to God.
And when we do, the peace of God will guard our hearts
and minds. Guard, not soothe, not comfort,
guard. Paul uses this military term.
It's as if a soldier is standing at the door of your mind,
keeping anxiety out, keeping kingdom confidence in,
and that pursuing grace, grace that refuses to let us fall back
into the darkness that God has pulled us out of.
So preceding grace opens the door, and pursuing grace keeps us from
wandering back out. But there is one moment in the banquet hall, a moment that
every soul must face. Because the king does not simply
prepare the feast, he does not simply protect the guest, he eventually
steps into the room. He inspects, he evaluates,
he searches every face,
and the one question that he is asking above all others, "Did you
put on what I provided?"
That brings us to our final point. Matthew 22 takes a dramatic turn.
The hall is full, the feast is ready, the guests are seated, but when the king
enters, he sees a man who is present, but not transformed.
He is in the right place, but he is wearing the wrong garment.
The king asks him, "Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?"
Notice in your text that this man is speechless. He is not confused.
He is not uninformed. Speechless. Why?
Because in ancient royal custom, the king provided garments at the door.
Just like when we walk in and receive a bulletin, someone would be at the door with
the garment appropriate for the banquet.
So this individual accepted free food and fine wine, but he deliberately
refused to put on the royal garment provided by the host.
He didn't forget it,
he refused it. He wanted the king's table, but without the king's
terms. He wanted kingdom privileges, but without kingdom standards.
He wanted grace without obedience.
And Jesus says the king responds with judgment, "Bind him,
her, hand and foot, and throw him into outer
darkness."
On its face, this looks like cruelty, but it's not.
It is the rightful judgment of a king whose holiness cannot be
mocked, because the garment represents the righteousness of Christ,
death, burial, resurrection, and the transformed life that
flows from true conversion. Paul echoes this in the
Epistle in Philippians 4. He says, "Think about what is true, what is honorable,
what is just, what is pure, what is lovely, what is commendable, and keep
on doing the things that you have learned and received." In other
words, you cannot eat with the king while wearing the rags of your old
life. You cannot claim grace on Sunday and walk in
gossip and compromise and unrepentant sin Monday through
Saturday. The king expects his guests to wear
what he provides. So the question before us is not did we receive the
invitation, not did we enter the hall, not are we seated at the table.
The question is far more urgent. Are you wearing what the
king provided? Are you living the life that rightfully
reflects the king? Because the feast is ready, the king is present, and the
inspection has begun. Family, we have heard the invitation
of grace, felt its protection, and stood beneath the gaze of a
king who inspects. And as we have already prayed the collect
earlier, let us pray it again. Lord, let your grace
always precede and follow us so that we may continually be
given to good works. Walk away today, family, not merely
invited, protected, but transformed, clothed in
what Christ has provided, covered in what he has purchased, and
committed to what it is he commands.
In the name of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.