There Are Only Two Kinds of People in the World
In Matthew 21:28-32, Jesus tells the story of two brothers who react differently to their father's command. The story illustrates that "There Are Only Two Kinds of People in the World"—pride-filled and pain-filled. By God's grace, we can be a third kind of person. October 23, 2011.
If you want to start an argument, ask a few people whether they think it’s a good idea to relax our immigration laws or not. Is it better to pass a law that requires immigrants to learn and speak English, or is it better to pass a law that encourages immigrants to speak their native language? There was a time when immigrants flooded into our country from Europe, people who spoke German, Italian, and Polish. Those boats aren’t so full anymore. But there still are plenty of boats sailing to America carrying people who speak Spanish, Hmong, and Chinese. So, should Milwaukee continue to push its ethnic festivals during the summer to celebrate diversity, or should we have one big Summerfest that runs all summer long to celebrate unity?
You’d think that global communications and the close quarters of major cities might have erased the uniqueness of various cultures and rendered those questions irrelevant. But that hasn’t been the case. Ever since the tower of Babel, cultures and individuals have remained distinct. Everybody has different interests, different likes and dislikes, different tastes, different looks. Yet with all the differences, no matter who you are or where you are, there are basically two kinds of people in the world. That’s the truth Jesus sets before us in today’s gospel from Matthew chapter 21. So, the question we need to answer is not, “What is my ethnic background?” but “Into which category of people would Jesus place me?” because, when you come right down to it, There Are Only Two Kinds of People in the World.
The pride-filled
With fall colors, falling leaves, and falling temperatures all around us, you probably haven’t been thinking about...Lent. But that’s the setting for this parable. Opposition to Jesus had been gathering steam. Like a snowball rolling downhill, hatred toward Jesus from religious leaders had reached avalanche proportions. They had been hoping and praying for political freedom to get out from under the steel-toed boots of the Roman Empire and the relentless requirements of Roman revenue enhancement (“heavy taxes”). There was more. The religious leaders didn’t just want freedom. They wanted prestige, a re-creation of the golden age of David and Solomon one thousand years earlier. “If only God would send a Savior and anoint a Messiah who would remove the Romans and restore our rights!”
Along came John the Baptist, the forerunner of that promised Messiah. He did not lead people in a march along the wall in the street of the governor’s mansion, demanding rights. Instead, he looked right in the eyes of the religious leaders and pointed out their sin. They hated that. “We’re religious! In fact, we do more religion than anyone! We’re fine, upstanding citizens! We’ve never done anything wrong. If you want to see righteous living, look at us. We’re righteousness personified!” But John the Baptist proclaimed the truth. Righteous living is not possible. It’s a lie for any human being to think he or she can set moral standards of right and wrong, live up to them, and be OK with God. That’s like a five-year-old telling Mom and Dad, “I know how much rest I need. I will set my own bedtime—midnight. And I know my nutritional needs so I’ll plan the menu for my meals—candy bars, cookies, popsicles, caffeinated-sugared soda pop, and McDonald’s fries.” John the Baptist told the religious leaders and everyone else, “God demands, ‘Be holy!’ (Leviticus 19:2), and you guys aren’t!” But they did not want to listen. Jesus said, “John [the Baptist] came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him.”
It got worse. John’s real purpose was to point to the long-awaited Savior. That Savior, of course, is Jesus Christ, who turned out to be exactly what the prophets promised and exactly the opposite of what the religious leaders wanted. Do you see the problem? They were pride-filled. They paid more attention to themselves, their own desires, their own needs, their own feelings, than to the Bible. They hated Jesus for bursting their balloon. But he got out the needle of God’s holy demands—a needle just as sharp as the one used by John the Baptist. “What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ ‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go.” You know the problem of that second son, don’t you? He was pride-filled just like the religious leaders known as Pharisees.
I would be willing to argue with anyone who claims that there are hypocritical, pharisaic unbelievers sitting here today. Only God can look into someone else’s heart. I can’t. You can’t. I would find it hard to believe that there are outright Pharisees here. Yet in each and every one of us, deep in the inner recesses of our heart of hearts, there lurks a little pride-filled Pharisee just aching to get out. It shows itself in one of two ways.
One of those ways is self-centeredness. If you got here in time to read the worship folder and saw the sermon theme and parts, “There are only two kinds of people in the world: pride-filled and pain-filled” and thought, “This sermon won’t be for me,” that’s self-centeredness. If you heard me say there’s a little Pharisee in each of us, and immediately thought, “Maybe that person across the aisle but not me,” that’s self-centeredness. If you did something wrong last week but figured, “I’ve got to have a little pleasure once in awhile. My life has been hectic enough. I deserve it. After all, I’ve got to make sure I’m happy,” that’s self-centeredness, a symptom of a pride-filled heart.
The little pride-filled Pharisee inside can come sneaking out and show itself in another way: apathy. If you arrived in time to see that the notes in the worship folder indicate all kinds of Bible studies and more being planned in a variety of formats and time slots and thought, “That’s not for me,” that’s apathy. If you heard that the budget committee is going to meet soon and set ministry plans for 2012, and thought, “I wonder how the other members will be able to support it?” that’s apathy. Like self-centeredness, apathy is another symptom of a pride-filled heart. One involves indulgence; the other indifference. But remember what God says in Holy Scripture: “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18). If you don’t deal with the self-centeredness or apathy of pride, you could end up hearing, “The tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.”
On Tuesday of Holy Week, Jesus bent over backwards to show incredible patience and love to his enemies. He wanted to do everything possible for them so they could be close to God. He told them the truth. That’s exactly what he does for us. He proclaims the truth in order to pop the bubble of a pride-filled heart, leaving us empty, hurting, and pain-filled. You see, there are only two kinds of people in the world: pride-filled and pain-filled. Jesus’ stinging words were designed to deflate the pride-filled so we all become hurting and pain-filled.
But why would our Savior do that? Is he out to get us? No! Just listen to this. “God has bound all people over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all,” (Romans 11:32). Oh! I get it! He’s got a bigger plan.
The pain-filled
Just as a pride-filled heart can show itself in one of two ways, self-centeredness or apathy, so also a pain-filled heart shows itself in one of two ways. One of those ways is deception. There were plenty of hurting people in the past who tried to hide their pain after hearing the truth about their sin. Think of Adam and Eve. What’s the first thing they did when the recognized their rebellion against God? They made coverings for themselves and tried to hide behind the shrubbery. As if you can hide from God! Elijah ran away to the desert—yes, to get away from a bloodthirsty king and queen who wanted to murder him, but also to avoid doing his job of preaching. Zacchaeus climbed a tree—yes, to see Jesus, but also to hide in its branches because he knew he was a sinner.
If you came to church, and someone asked, “How are you?” you might have said, “Fine!” which is what we all typically say. But if that person looked you in the eye and asked, “How are you really?” and you said, “Fine,” when all the while you were dying inside, that’s deception. If you ever felt, “I’ve never done anything worthwhile in my life. I’m nothing,” but still go through the motions of your daily activities without telling anyone how you really feel and seeking help, that’s deception.
The other way a pain-filled heart shows itself—and it happens in some measure to all of us when we become painfully aware of our sin—is despair. There were plenty of hurting people in Jesus’ day, people who had their pride-filled bubble burst, people who had their sin shoved right in their faces, who wilted in fear, crumpled to the ground, and cried from their pain-filled heart, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” They were despairing. The most obvious examples were the prostitutes and the tax collectors. They were like the first son in Jesus’ story, “A man…went to [his] first [son] and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ ‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.” The prostitutes, who took to heart Jesus’ stinging words, realized they were on the fast track to an early grave and to hell. The tax collectors, who took to heart Jesus’ stinging words, realized that their greed and cheating made them not only traitors to their fellow Israelites but also to God. “We have nowhere to go. We can’t pull ourselves out. We are mired in the mud of our own sin.” They were hurting, pain-filled.
If you came to church today and saw the sermon theme and parts and thought, “That’s me! Oh, I’m in trouble!” that’s on the edge of despair. If you did something wrong last week and felt so sad that you could hardly lift your head, but sat on the edge of your bed with tears welling up in your eyes because of your sin and guilt, that’s on the edge of despair.
That’s actually what Jesus wants because then people like the pain-filled prostitutes and the tax collectors in his day and pain-filled sinners like us are ready for his good news. Good news? It’s the best news anyone could ever hear. “Son! Daughter! Your sins are forgiven. I put everything on the line for you, my life for yours, and the heavenly Father has accepted that exchange and now considers you to be just perfect. No more hiding, no more deception, and certainly no more despairing—perfect healing, complete healing through the soothing balm of my love.” That announcement is for all, but the only ones who really appreciate it are the pain-filled. When Jesus told the pride-filled Pharisees, “I can heal you,” they said, “So? We’re not sick.” But when he tells pain-filled people like the prostitutes, tax collectors, and us, “You are healed!” we jump up and rejoice.
That’s exactly why Jesus came into our world—to heal us. Listen to these words from God’s holy book, “I will heal their waywardness and love them freely, for my anger has turned away from them” (Hosea 14:4). “I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security” (Jeremiah 33:6). “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3). “Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds” (Hosea 6:1). “By his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).
Some people spend most of their days pride-filled. Some spend most of their days pain-filled. But most of us shift back and forth from day to day. The trick is to use God’s threats to pop the little bubbles of pride when they arise and to use God’s promises to apply the soothing ointment of Jesus’ love when hurting. The more you do that, the more you’ll be able to understand that there are not just two kinds of people in the world. There’s a third kind. Picture this parable with the father and his two sons sitting at the dinner table. One says, “I’ll do what you want,” then doesn’t—pride-filled. The other says, “I won’t do what you want,” then changes his mind and does it—pain-filled. Take another look and notice that there is another chair at the table. It’s empty. It’s intended for that third kind of person in the world, the son or daughter who says, “I’ll do what you want, dear Lord,” and then gladly does the heavenly Father’s will because our Lord God is so good and gracious. By his grace that chair is yours. Amen.
Preached at Grace Lutheran Church, Milwaukee, WI (www.gracedowntown.org) on October 23, 2011
