Gooding, David: 1 - Salvation - A Gift of Faith

You have asked me to speak this week on the topic of the Gospel of Luke. A brief use of mathematics made me conclude that it would be quite impossible for me to attempt to cover all twenty four uh, chapters in twelve talks, so that I do not propose to try and cover the whole Gospel of Luke. What I want to do is to ask you to study with me, and to study some of the ways in which Luke has selected his material and then arranged it in his gospel. And I hope as we study that together, we shall find some little help towards the solving of a practical problem that many of us have many times encountered. That practical problem could be put like this. When we are reading epistles with straightforward statements of doctrine, then it is perhaps comparatively easy to follow the train of thought. Though, of course, we still need the help of expert exegetes to keep us on the right track. When we are following our Lord's moral teaching, again, it is moderately easy to follow the line of thought, though a great deal of thought has to be given to how this should be applied. But some people find that when they come to gospel narratives, then matters are not always quite so easy. One can read a gospel narrative and be, uh, uh, clear as to what it says, whether you read it in English or New Zealand. Ah, you'll see. You can be clear, more or less, as to what the story is, so clear that you could get up and forthwith, uh, give a paraphrase of the story. But very often that will leave, leave you with a question that, crudely put, is, so what? This is what happened. This is what Christ did. Wonderful. But what are we meant to do with this? So what? Take, for instance, a story that we shall come across later today, and that is the famous story of the women- woman who suffered from hemorrhage of some kind. It is a miracle, thank God, a real historical miracle that our Lord actually performed. And that, of course, is of immense significance in itself. His miracles were evidence, according to his own programmatic statement in the Gospel of Luke chapter four, His miracles were the evidence of his divine mission and anointing of God. So yes, that is its significance. But then we say to ourselves, yes, but he did many other miracles. Uh, is there any particular significance in this one? Or is it just a kind of ditto repeato? He did a whole lot of miracles. Let's take a selection of them. There they are. They were all miracles, and that's the point. Simply, they were miracles, full stop, because miracles attest his deity and Messiahship. Or could it be that each individual miracle has something distinctive to tell us? So that's number one point that will occupy us as we consider Luke's narratives. And then, of course, there comes the question of, uh, how should you apply it, if it is to be applied? Christ did miracles then. You say he doesn't do them today, really. But you say comfort, he will do them when he comes again. And these miracles are foretaste of that great age when nature, creation herself, shall be delivered from her bondage to corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of God. Marvelous, then, if these miracles are foretaste and pointers towards that coming glorious age, when we too shall find our- ourselves delivered, our bodies redeemed, and made like to his body of glory. Now, yes, let's get back to where- where we started. That's how preachers do sometimes. They start from a text and then go all over the place, don't they? We were talking about that woman who suffered from hemorrhage. Evidence of Christ's miraculous power in his day and attesting his Christhood and deity. Pointer perhaps towards the future. Anything else? Hmm. Oh yes, say the gospel preachers, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, a marvelous evangelistic sermon, that. And one hymn writer of the dinosauric age, to which I belong, and a hymn, therefore, which I've often sung with relish, encapsulated the whole story in a hymn. She only touched the hem of his garment as to his side she stole amid the crowd that gathered around him, and straightway she was whole. Hands up anybody who dares to admit that they ever sang the hymn. God, what a fearful ignorance has descended upon the earth since. Yes. Uh, yes. What's all that bit about? Coming up to his side and stealing, touching the hem of his garment. Is that all you have to do to get saved? You see, we've now pushed over from the physical miracle to now a spiritual application, and that's a valid thing to do, isn't it? The Gospel of John has our Lord doing it. When he opened the eyes of a blind man, he was not content with the physical miracle, but the whole story is used and authorized by our Lord as a paradigm, a thought model on which we can think about and analyze the gift of spiritual sight and how it is given us. Similarly, when our Lord himself miraculously fed the five thousand people, he himself then used the occasion to preach to them a long, long sermon on himself as the bread of life, the physical miracle thus illustrating the spiritual lesson that it conveyed. So it is certainly valid if we take some of these physical miracles as, um, uh, thought models then of a spiritual counterpart. But how can we sure, be sure that we've got hold of the detail right, all that business about touching the hem? She only touched the hem of his garment, and that was enough. Really, was it enough? What's all the fuss that our Lord made of compelling the woman to confess such a distressing ailment publicly in front of the crowd. What's all that about? In other words, particularly the preachers and the Sunday school teachers, we face a simple practical problem, don't we, with stories of that kind, as to how we shall interpret them, and when we've done our best, uh, to know, well, have we any control upon our interpretation that will save us from being overfensical, or again, will stop us from just taking one piece out of the story and forgetting all the rest of it? It is, uh, for that kind of, uh, problem that I hope to offer a little help in our studies together. And so this afternoon, I shall be not starting at the beginning of Luke. I propose to take a section of the gospel that will be very familiar to all of us. We could recite it in our sleep, maybe. And then it is simple also in the lessons that it will teach. We shall all know the lessons. We shall probably learn nothing new as we go through this particular section. But it will serve thereby, uh, the, uh, easier for us to see in this section how Luke has compiled this part of his narrative and what perhaps his intention may have been when he collected these sayings of Christ and these accounts of his miracles and put them in one particular section of his book. Be warned, I am old fashioned in many senses. In the world of literature, it is an exceedingly unfashionable thing to suggest that an author of a book had any intention at all. Or if he had, it cannot be known, they say, do think. And again, you should be warned, I'm not a theologian, I'm not an expert like my brethren who will be in the other lectures, do you see? I am an arts man. I gave my life to, uh, studying and and lecturing on the Greek classics, uh, all kinds of literature, uh, Greek tragedy, and thus and thus and thus. And there it is common for the new look, uh, of literary critics to say it is quite illegitimate for you to suggest that you could know anything at all worth knowing about an author's intention. I shall not weary you this afternoon. I am afraid of those eyelids. I shall not weary you, uh, uh, giving you the reasons for their approach, nor what my answers would be. I state the bald fact or arbitrary. I believe that we can come near to an author's intention, uh, as we give patient attention to the way he has selected his material and how he has phrased himself and how, in one major division of his work, he has repeated themes. Simple matters when we actually get down to it. So let's take our Bible in hand, shall we? Another way of keeping awake. Uh, take our Bibles in hand and actually look at the text of the gospel, and we shall begin to look this afternoon at chapters seven and eight of the gospel. Why take these two chapters together? Well, you will notice perhaps that at chapter seven verse one, Luke inserts into his narrative a general remark. Luke seven verse one: after he had ended all his sayings in the ears of the people, he entered into Capernaum. That is a device that many ancient authors use. In those far off days, they had not invented the device of, of, um, chapters or chapter headings, and therefore they used other devices with which to divide their narrative. This is one of them, a concluding remark, as you see, that concludes what has gone before, which, uh, was basically our Lord's moral teaching. It concludes that after he had ended all his sayings in the ears of the people, and then it tells you he entered into Capernaum. Now we start a self-evidently different topic, not now our Lord's moral teaching, but a number of incidents of healing and thus, including conversations he had with the Pharisees and with the people towards the end or or the middle of chapter seven and then back to actual incidents of healing and miracle and so forth. There is in chapter eight a long section on the parables, though, as you will observe, other people have these parables, like Matthew, in quite a different situation in their gospels. And finally, back to the story of miracles. The storm on the lake calmed, the demoniac healed, the woman with hemorrhage likewise healed, and Jairus' daughter raised from the dead. With that, you come to the end of chapter eight, and chapter nine goes off onto something that is self-evidently completely different, our Lord's commissioning of his apostles to go out and, uh, preach the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. So I suggest as a tentative thing that seven and eight were intended by Luke to stand together. Whatever else may have been his intention in so doing, one of his themes in these chapters is obvious. That is the theme which in English you would put by the general term salvation, or the verb to save. A minor lesson in Greek at this moment. The Greek has a word, sozo, which means to save. Actually, it means to make whole or fit or something of the sort, but it's commonly translated save. But like so many other words, it has many connotations. E- it is used, for instance, in chapter seven verse three where the centurion asked the Lord Jesus that he would come and save his servant. On this instance, it is a compound word, dia sodzo, which has the effect of making it mean to save somebody through a dangerous situation. You would lose that word, for instance, of somebody whose ship is foundering in the sea, or they themselves have fallen overboard amidst the waves, and someone comes and rescues them, saves them through the water and to the bank. And here was a man desperately sick and in danger of dying, and the centurion asked our Lord, uh, to use Luke's phrase, to come and rescue the man, save him through this illness, and bring him through safely to restored health and life. Saving then in that practical sense. You could use the ordinary verb sozo likewise for practical saving. Or you could use it in a medical sense, if you like. Other words are used even in that same story about the centurion. Two other words are used in Greek for healing and making whole, but you could use the word uh, soto for medical, uh, saving somebody, and in that case, your English versions are likely to translate it healed or something. So with the woman, with the hemorrhage, our Lord says, thy faith has, well, it's the same Greek word, thy faith has saved thee, say the old versions, perhaps the new ones, they're a bit more expensive. They'll, they'll, they'll, uh, have it, she was, your faith has healed you or something, or cured you, or brought you wholeness, you'll see. It's the same word in Greek. You can use it as it is used in the case of the demoniac for rescuing somebody from the very power of demons. Yes, well, it's the same Greek verb. Those that came out from the city, we are told, uh, ask of the locals who had seen the thing happen, how was this demoniac, how was he, and again, your versions may say made whole or something, uh, it's the same Greek word, save i- in a different connotation. It gets an extraordinary connot- connotation in the last story about Jairus' daughter. She was actually dead by this time. The messenger had come saying, trouble not the master, your daughter has died. There's no sense now in troubling the master further. Our Lord said, only believe and she shall be saved. What a word to use when somebody's actually died, you'll see. So there they are. Just let me run through them with you, uh, the occurrences of this verb and its compound in these chapters. It's seven verse three, that he would come and save, the compound verb here, his servant, bring him through this illness to good health. Then at the end of chapter seven, verse fifty, he said to the woman in Simon's house, thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace. It's interesting because that story is peculiar to Luke. Nobody else has that story. You see, it turns out to be, in the end, a salvation story. In what sense, we shall find out later. In chapter eight, our Lord has a suc- um, Luke has a succession of our Lord's parables. Look at verse twelve, if you will. And those that by the wayside of they that have heard, then cometh the devil and taketh away the word from their heart that they may not believe. Ah, but Luke doesn't leave it there. Look what he adds. That they may not believe and be saved. So even in this parable, uh, we find Luke's interest. It talks about what the devil does to stop people being saved. Then, of course, going on into chapter eight, there's the demoniac in verse thirty six, and they that saw it told them how that he was possessed with devils, was made whole, was saved, you'll say. Verse, um, forty eight, to the woman, uh, and he said, daughter, thy faith has made thee whole, saved thee literally. Verse fifty, only believe and she shall be saved. Now I just, uh, emphasize that English translation saved. It's open to you to say, but you should observe that when a word is used in different connotations, then the exact translation will be not its general meaning, but the particular connotation's meaning, you'll say. I'm aware of that. And your marvelous new translations help you that way, don't they? Marvelously. Ha. And so use half a dozen different translations in the course of these two chapters. And then obscure the fact that Luke is using the same word all the way through. Yes, Luke is aware that it's got different connotations, but they are all connotations of the basic meaning of the word, you'll see. And so, ah, well then the new translations will send you back to the extensive concordances, and you'll find the information later on. Salvation, then, do see, in these chapters. And, uh, the very first thing we ask, of course, these several instances of, uh, salvation, however you translate it, are they all just the same? Ditto repeato. Well, no, of course, evidently not the same, are they? I mean, at the start, there is this centurion, and, uh, his servant is sick, and salvation for that man meant being delivered from dying. It is followed very closely by the story of the widow of Nain's son. He, poor man, was actually dead. The word saved isn't used in connection with him, but there you are, these two stories stand at the beginning, and Luke says the story of the dead boy, the dead young man, followed soon after the first story. So there we have them, a pair of stories. One man was dying and the other was dead, and says Luke, the dead man was the only son of his mother. At the end of chapter eight, we have a double story. There's this woman with the hemorrhage. She, her life was wasting away with this uncontrollable, uh, uh, effusion of blood. And, uh, it is followed by the story of Jairus's daughter. She was dead. One woman wasting away, and the other woman dead. And the dead girl was the only daughter of her father. Small matter, isn't it? But Luke was an artist. It m- makes a, a, a nice framework for the stories, doesn't it? One man dying and the other dead, and one woman wasting away and the other dead. The man was the only son of his mother, and the girl was the only daughter of her father. That, by the way. But, uh, now the first two stories are about, uh, uh, uh, saving from death and giving new life to the widow of Nain's son, physically so understood. The story of salvation of the woman in Simon's house wasn't a question of restoring physical life, was it? The explicit detail of the story concentrates on the fact that her many sins had been forgiven. So it's forgiveness of sin that lies at the heart of this salvation story. What use do you suppose the message of forgiveness of sins if it had nothing else to accompany it? What would, what good would it have been to the demoniac? It was not new physical life he needed. He certainly needed forgiveness, but if all you could do for him was forgiveness, that would have been small, wouldn't it, compared with his need. He wanted something more than forgiveness. He needed salvation from the, uh, the turbulent grip of this legion of evil spirits. So self-evidently, the stories are not simply repetitions. They have their different aspects, and that is self-evident even at the beginning of our study. We shall be looking now, therefore, to look at these salvation stories. The, the, the material is very familiar to you. You're not going to learn anything, uh, different, not today, not this afternoon, or even tonight. But we're looking at the way Luke has put them together and why he, for instance, has added stories that, uh, the others don't. That story about the woman in Simon's house, for instance. Why did he put that salvation story into his record at this time? How does each story contribute to the sum total of these illustrations and examples of salvation? So we start with the centurion's servant, and you have preached it so many times, I can just remind you of its salient fact. It is the fact that, um, his servant was dying, and he invited the Lord Jesus to come to his house and rescue his servant from dying. And the Lord Jesus did rescue his servant. An example of salvation then. But the expositor must notice that the story isn't content with just say, say the, the, the boys, uh, being rescued from dying. The major part of the story discusses the conditions upon which this man was given new life. The Jews had come to our Lord, beseeching our Lord to grant this centurion's request, and they besought him on the basis that the man, they said, verse four, is worthy that thou shouldest do this for him. And then they cited his meritorious deeds, for he loveth our nation and himself built as our synagogue. And hearing that, it is to be observed that our Lord went, began to go with them. He didn't stand there and say nonsense, I will not come on those terms to heal your boy. Hmm. That reminds me of Peter and Cornelius. Cornelius asked Peter to come and, uh, uh, uh, tell him the gospel, you know. And, uh, when Peter entered the house, he began his gospel sermon by talking about good works, that in every nation, he that feareth God, uh, uh, uh, uh, and does good things is acceptable to him. I've always felt grateful that Peter chose to begin that, begin that sermon, sermon that way round. What a difficult situation would have been caused if when Peter opened his mouth in Cornelius's house, he'd shaken his preacher's fist in Cornelius's face and said, Cornelius, I know you're full of good works as you count them, but your good works are as filthy rags, my boy. Didn't, did he? Well, had he done that, the, the centurion would have turned around and said, that's odd, Peter, I had an angel here today, uh, and he commended me on my good works. Good works cannot earn salvation, can they? But God does consider the good works of people not yet saved as an expression of their heart's desire. And the desire of, uh, Peter's centurion was that the best he knew how he wanted to please God. He was not yet saved. He needed words, to hear words by which he was to be saved, but in response to his heart's attitude expressed in his good works, God himself, uh, set in motion a vision or two and led Peter to his house. So here, this was a noble man. Centurions were the backbone of the Roman army, and by local standards would have been quite wealthy, and he had enough cash to build the Jews a synagogue, a sign of enormous, uh, uh, open-mindedness, you'll see, because Jews, by and large, they did, I mean, Romans, by and large, did despise Jews with their horrible mutilation of circumcision and their nasty little, uh, prayer houses down back alleys in the cities, you'll see, and all that kind of thing. Uh, the Romans despised Jews, though the Roman authorities protected them from Julius Caesar. Eh, but, uh, he was a noble man, and Christ, hearing of his worth and of his heart's desire, went towards him. But then the man's face shone out, and he sent other messengers and said, Lord, don't listen to that nonsense about my works and meritorious. I, uh, am not worthy, neither did I consider myself worthy, uh, you'll see. I'm not worthy that you should come under my roof. Speak only the word, and my servant shall be healed. But then the man's face shone out, and he sent other messengers and said, Lord, don't listen to that nonsense about my works and meritorious. I, uh, am not worthy, neither did I consider myself worthy. Uh, do you see? I'm not worthy that you should come under my roof. Speak only the word, and my servant shall be healed. And thereupon Christ did so speak the word, and the man's servant was healed forthwith. So now the, this is Luke telling us, it's not me about to import into Luke some notions that I learned in, from the epistles. Do you see? This is Luke actually telling us. And if we were preaching the, the, the, the incident, we ought to thump the desk or otherwise emphasize these things as well and, and not forget to bring them in. Yes, the man's servant was saved, and he was saved from dying. On what principle was he saved? And the text is explicitly saying it is not by works, and it is not by merit. It is by faith. Yes. I've not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. That story, you see, is immediately followed in Luke's narrative by the widow of Nain's son. And indeed, Luke says that the second story happened very soon after the first. They form a twin, don't they? One man dying and the other dead, you'll see. The widow is in vivid contrast to the centurion. He was a strong military man with many a heroic act, perhaps to his credit, and good works galore. The poor woman was a crumpled widow. Once she'd had a husband to stand for her, death had taken him. She was left with one only son to fight her battles in life, and death had taken him too. And death was now taking its toll as the body was carried out on the carriage to the grave, coming out of the city gate when our Lord came up to it and stood in its way and touched the bier and said, young man, I sound to thee, arise. And he that was dead sat up. Salvation from physical death. I, with my simply simple imagination, have tried to picture that to myself. Some experience for that young man, wasn't it? Don't you mean were dead one minute and not knowing you were if you said I mean, uh, a- a- and then, um, suddenly waking up and sitting up. And when you came to, you found you were sitting by the side of Christ. What an extraordinary situation. Seated beside Christ. Ah. Anyway, uh, he hadn't got off the beer yet, you see, had he? And we read those simple but profoundly significant words. Christ gave him back, gave him to his mother. No mention here of any conditions. My good woman, I'll give him back if you'll promise to attend the synagogue every Sabbath from now on without exception. No, no. Unconditional, just simply gave the boy back to his mother. What a profound act of grace, and what a marvelous a- aspect of salvation for that woman. Put the two together then, the two stories as Luke twins them. This salvation from dying and from death, and the condition, not by merit, not by worth, not by works, but by faith. It was a gift. And that at the physical level. But of course, you've heard those phrases before, haven't you? I can scarce mention them, but what your mind will be repeating them from another context, namely Ephesians chapter two. By grace are we saved through faith, and that not of ourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast. Yes. So here at the spiritual level, the conditions are now said to be the same as those that applied to these instances of salvation from physical death. Uh, wait a minute. Just before we move on, um, do you remember offhand the context of Ephesians? When it says that by grace you save through faith, and that not of yourselves, it's the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast. What aspect of salvation is Paul talking about from your good memory? No cheating and looking at Ephesians two now, because this is an examination on which you'll get marks. Um, yes, sir? Dead! That's right, sir, you've got it at once. You'll get the prize of an extra ice cream at dinner. Uh, cause eh, uh, yes, that's it, you see. We were dead, says Paul. Do you, and that's not me. I didn't write it or invent it or anything of the sort. This just happens to be so. You were dead in trespass and in sins, and Christ made you alive. God made you alive in. And made you sit in heavenly places, a- a- a- after all, alongside of Christ. But that's another point. Eh, do see. That is it. These are the conditions upon which we get new life. In this section of Luke's narrative, this is the first instance of salvation. There'll be many more. It is the question of salvation from death, salvation from dying. It is new life. It is on these conditions. And in that passage where Paul repeats those same kind of conditions explicitly, the particular in a- a- a- aspect of salvation he's talking of at that point is salvation for those who were dead in trespasses and in sin, and God quickens them through Christ. Salvation, then, is, uh, uh, life. Ah, but let's pass over the intervening para- to that another time. The argument, the conversation, the discussion that followed, uh, from verse, uh, eighteen down to, uh, verse thirty five. We shall come back to that later. I'm not forgetting it, you'll see. But let's come to the next story of salvation, to s- perceive what Luke is actually doing by putting this story here. The woman in Simon's house, thirty six to fifty of chapter seven, is of course an instance of salvation. Christ says so. Thy faith has saved thee. Go in peace. And as we have already observed, now with her, it's not a question of being saved from death, not a question in that sense of new life. The point of salvation here is the forgiveness of sins, that lovely word that means the letting go, the release from the chains that hold one to one's guilty past. And for this woman, of course, the very word forgiveness was a heavenly sound, was it, was it not? It released her from her past. As long as she was not forgiven of that past, then she could not enter decent society in those days. We're told in the story, by implication, what Simon thought of the woman. Had it not been for the presence of Jesus, he wouldn't have had such a woman as that in his dining room. And unless you are particularly gone on permissiveness, there's some point in his attitude, isn't there? I mean, it's the ha- attitude that heaven shares. Blessed are they that wash their robes, that they might have right to the tree of life and come to the gate of the city, because without, outside, are the fornicators and such. So there will be no room in God's dining room or heaven for anything that defile us or make us alive. Oh, what a wonderful thing forgiveness is. Think of our brothers in Corinth and sisters and their murky past. But you were washed. Oh, what glorious words. You were sanctified. You were justified in Christ, made already members of the kingdom and family of God, made fit to stand in the very presence of God in his innermost shrine, boldness to enter into the holiest of all, even now, our hearts sprinkled, that is, by blood from an evil conscience, and our bodies bathed in pure water by the regeneration of the Holy Spirit. So yes, we rejoice, and I do not need to to expand upon the topic, you know it all so well. But just the fact that the lady was forgiven is only a small part of this story, isn't it? And if we would expand the whole story, we must pay due attention to Luke's sense of proportion. By far the biggest point p- part of the story is taken up first with the description of what the woman did when she fell at behind our Lord at his feet, and secondly, with the discussion that followed between our Lord and Simon. You'll see, as Simon saw what this woman did, immediately would have expected that our Lord, if he were a prophet, would have seen through this woman and have perceived her moral character. She was a woman of the streets. And if he would have prophesied, Simon was saying to him, in between munching his olives, and uh, uh, you'll say, he would have perceived Old Testament prophets did. They could see through people. When Jeroboam's wife came to inquire of the prophet about her son who was sick. Well, she scarce got through the door, but what the prophet who was blind said, uh, you're Jeroboam's wife, aren't you? He knew. And that was a point that, uh, Simon had been pondering for a long while before he invited our Lord to dinner anyway. Was he a prophet or wasn't he? His teachings were marvelously high moral ground, but look at his behavior, eating with publicans and prostitutes and things. And this captain, ah, he's no prophet. Simon was saying to himself, can't even discern a woman's character. If only he had discerned her character, he wouldn't have allowed the woman to touch him. He's no prophet then. So our Lord interrupted his unspoken train of thought and said, I sum what to say to you, Simon. He said, do say on. And he told him a, a, a parable to start with. We better take notice of that parable and make sure we get it the right way round. Now the, this cred, these two debtors, Jose, owed one a little and another a lot. And when they had nothing to pay with, the creditor freely, frankly, completely forgave them both. Which of the two, said our Lord to Simon, do you suppose will love him the more? Simon scratched his Pharisaic head and said, well, you see, uh, oh, that's obvious, uh, uh, the one who was forgiven, uh, the more, he will love the more. You saw, Master Simon, you you've got the logic right. That when somebody is forgiven, they love. Yes? And the more they've been forgiven, the more they love? Well, it's obvious. But do notice the way round the parable is, because some translations of the Bible in ancient times have misled people in their interpretation of what our Lord said later on. The grand old authorized has it, wherefore I say unto you that her many sins are forgiven because she loved much, or for she loved much. And people have run off with the idea that in this parable, the woman was forgiven because, for she loved. Roman Catholic translations particularly erred in that respect until the Jerusalem Bible put it right. No, our Lord is not about to say that the woman was forgiven because she loved, of course not. That would contradict the first story, wouldn't it? The first story said salvation is not by works, it is by faith. You can't earn it by any work. You can't get forgiveness on the grounds that you've loved so much that now you get forgiveness because you loved. Of course not. Look at those debtors. Well, did they love their creditor in order to get forgiven? Of course not, you say. Uh, that's not what we do to our bank managers when we're in debt to them. What ho? Uh, well, some people do, perhaps, when they're vastly in debt to the bank manager. If I'm that way, I cross the road and go down the side street, you see, rather than meet him. But, um, eh, some people invite him to dinner and make a fuss of him in the hope that he'll say, oh, these are very nice people and they love me ever so much, so he forgives them. Some people think like that about God. If they only love him enough and sing enough hymns to him, he'll forgive them, you'll say. But no, the debtors were not forgiven because they loved. It was the other way around. Forgiven, frankly, free and for nothing. Then they began to love, and the love was the evidence that they had been forgiven. And with masterly skill, with this simple story, our Lord turned on Simon. You see this woman? I'm going to say to you, Simon, wherefore I say to you, I'm about to say to you, Simon, that this woman is no longer a, a sinner legally. Her many sins have been forgiven, Simon. You think I'm not a prophet because I'm allowing this woman to touch me, and she's a sinner. I'm telling you, her sins are a thing of the past. They have been forgiven. But of course, how would you get Simon to believe that? No good our Lord saying to Simon, well, you'll have to believe that because I tell you. I mean, you respectable Christians would, if our Lord said anything, you'd, you'd, you'd, uh, believe it at once, wouldn't you? But you couldn't expect Simon to believe it. If our Lord said, I'm telling you, Simon, it's all right for me to allow this woman to touch me. She's no longer a sinner. Her sins were many, but they have been forgiven. No good saying, and Simon, you'll have to accept that because I say so. Of course not. Well, on what grounds will he tell Simon this? Why, on the grounds of evidence. Those debtors loved their creditor? Evidence that they had been forgiven. Look at this woman. Do you not see her love for me? How she bathed my feet in her tears, wiped them with the hairs of her head, anointed them with o- ointment, and kissed my feet. Do you not see the significance of those works? They are the evidence that she has been forgiven. Not the condition for getting forgiveness, the evidence that she has been forgiven. And it is on that ground that I'm telling you that our sins have been forgiven, must have been forgiven, mustn't they? Because look at, look at the results, look at the evidence. The love is evidence of the forgiveness. Well, if that is what Luke is saying, now we've got, how, how interesting. Somebody said this morning about the Bible giving us a balanced diet. Well, here's an obvious case of balanced diet, isn't it? The first story said, salvation is not by works, not by merit, but by faith. It is a gift. The second salvation story is saying, well, yes, forgiveness is a gift as well, but where there is genuine forgiveness, there must be evidence. There will be evidence. And if the evidence isn't there, what about that? I don't tell, I can't tell you whether Sim- whether our Lord said anything more to Simon. I sort of feel as I'd like to add a little bit and say, Simon, what about you, my boy? Any evidence in your life? When I came in, said our Lord, you didn't kiss me, did you, Simon? No. Who didn't offer me the common courtesy of a bowl of water and a slave to wash my feet? You didn't, did you? Who didn't anoint my head with oil? Any wealthy host would have done that for his guests, anointed him with the oil of gladness. Simon forgot all those niceties. Any evidence, Simon, that you've been forgiven? What is the evidence that anybody's been forgiven? It is love to the creditor. And at that point in the room, a gasp went round the guests. What is he saying? When people are forgiven, they love their creditor who forgave them. And Christ is expecting and accepting love from this woman because she's been forgiven. Who forgave her? Yes, our Lord is the creditor, isn't he? And if we have been forgiven, then there will flow evidence in the form of love and devotion to the Lord Jesus, yes? And the story that follows immediately afterwards emphasizes the same thing. There were these women from Galilee. Some of them came from the top drawer of society. There was a wife of, of Chuza, Herod's, uh, uh, steward, used to living in the palace. There were women from whom demons had gone out. Now, together, because they shared this same love and devotion to this same Savior. They followed him at discreet distance, doubtless, and gave themselves, as he journeyed with his apostles on his evangelistic tours, gave themselves to ministering to him of this substance. Jutsus' wife would have been sizably wealthy. Fancy her taking a journey through Palestine to be near Christ and his apostles and giving herself to maintain them, and if need be, wash their socks or else their sandals. You'll see devotion that comes from forgiveness can take two forms, and should, shouldn't it? There's the devotion of the heart, like the woman showed in Simon's house with her tears and her love and affection and all that side of the thing. But genuine devotion will not be content with that. Genuine devotion that springs from a genuine experience of forgiveness will express itself in the actual hard, practical chores of serving and maintaining the Lord and all his chosen workers. It is a balanced diet that Luke is giving us in his example, and thus his doctrine of salvation. Now, we've only started. I have dwelt on those familiar stories because we know them. You've learned nothing, absolutely nothing. Um, I'll try and do better next time. But you'll see, if we have perceived what we already know and have perceived, oh yes, look at that, look at that beautiful balance of the doctrine of salvation now illustrated by Luke, then it might, uh, uh, inspire us to begin thinking. And if Luke does it there, do you suppose he's done it all through? Well, he might not have done, might he? And if he hasn't done it, we have no room for complaints. Take the stories as they come, shall we? But it could be that as well as being inspired, Luke is a consummate artist and knows how to preach and write a balanced account of our Lord as Savior. So we pray. Our Father, we thank thee for thy servant Luke. We thank thee for moving him by thy Holy Spirit to write these delightful accounts of our blessed Lord, his words and his deeds. We thank thee for them. We thank thee for giving us to experience the realities that here we find depicted. We pray thou wilt work in us that balanced life that knows by thy grace salvation as a gift, that finds therein the source and wellspring of devotion, affectionate and hard working to Jesus Christ our Lord, for his name's sake. Amen.