Refusing the Kingdom

The Parable of Who's Who

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ - Matthew 25:31-40 In 2006 Guy Goma got an interview as a data cleanser in the IT department at the BBC. At the front desk, the receptionist falsely identified him as Gay Kewney, a technology expert, who had come to be interviewed on the BBC News channel. Want to know what happened next? Click here [https://trinityvineyard.us2.list-manage.com/track/click?u=1e0e4751085def93ec6e64531&id=295af0cfff&e=bd41698d99]. Cases of mistaken identity can be comic, but sometimes they can have more serious consequences. Take the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats. If you start with the wrong set of ideas, you will end up reading the passage as a moral checklist: you should care for the poor, the sick, the imprisoned (and if you don't you'll face judgment). It’s a compelling message, and not without an element of truth - God has a particular care for the vulnerable. But in this moment, Jesus is teaching something more specific and more surprising. Who is being judged? Not the disciples, but the nations. Who are “the least of these”? Not humanity in general, but Jesus’ own brothers and sisters - those who follow him and do the will of the Father. And what is the basis of judgment? How the nations respond to these vulnerable messengers of Jesus. In receiving or rejecting them, they are - without even knowing it - receiving or rejecting Jesus himself. This changes everything. The parable is not a command to try harder or rouse ourselves to feats of compassion. It's a promise to those who risk everything to follow Jesus. Those who are overlooked, rejected, and persecuted are not forgotten. Their lives are seen. Their suffering counts. Jesus is "with them to the end of the age", so close to them that their treatment becomes his own. And for the rest of us? There’s an invitation. Not just to show kindness to the marginalised (we should be doing that anyway, btw), but to step into the risky space of faithful obedience. You may not “win” by the world’s standards. You may even end up doing things that look like a failure. But the King Jesus is on the throne. And in the end, he will make things clear.

Kingdom Faithfulness

Always pray and never give up. Prayer is not a transaction. Prayer is not something we give God in exchange for services. Prayer is relationship. Persistent prayer is not about wearing God down. It is about remaining close to the One who loves us. When the result of our prayer is not what we think, rather than giving up or resorting to manipulation we keep the conversation with God going. Persistent prayer forms Kingdom faithfulness within us. Prayer is a two way street, God does not mind us repeating ourselves. We do however need to be careful that we are listening to Him. It is easy to think of prayer as only asking for things from God. That is part of what this parable is about but not all. In v7 we have this “So don’t you think God will surely give justice to his chosen people who cry out to him day and night?”  Cry is a wordless call. Prayer includes something we often forget today: Lament. The Bible is full of lament. Nearly one third of the Psalms express it. Lament is looking at our situation, especially when our situation is giving us pain and problems, trials and tribulations and crying out.  Lament is different from whining or being downhearted or having a pity party. Lamenting is taking the situation to God rather than letting your head drop and acting as if you are trapped in an unfeeling, blind universe. Lament is being honest with God and honest about our pain. Lamenting is not a lack of faith. It takes a lot of trust and loyalty to look to God in our pain and problems. This parable is telling us we aren’t forced to pretend everything is all fine. Express your complaints to God and cry out to him to do something about the situation. Your emotions will never be too strong for God. If your pain persists? Keep on crying out to God. Lament is not weak faith. It is faith refusing to let go of God in pain. https://undeceptions.com/podcast/god-laments/ [https://trinityvineyard.us2.list-manage.com/track/click?u=1e0e4751085def93ec6e64531&id=c0cd2c4345&e=bd41698d99]  The end of v8 is a sober warning. But when the Son of Man  returns, how many will he find on the earth who have faith? Jesus wonders if he will find followers loyal to him when he returns. And so he urges us to always pray.

Gods Love and His Judgement

Matthew 25:14-15 For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away.  God’s judgment is real, and Scripture says it begins with the church. Living in the tension between God’s love and His judgment is essential, because it is at this hinge point that we come to truly know both God and ourselves. To know God—the One in whom mercy and truth meet, where righteousness and peace embrace—is to see His perfect beauty. In that light we recognize our own brokenness. And when we truly see ourselves apart from Him, we are drawn back to Him, longing for restoration through His mercy, forgiveness, and justice. This meeting point produces what the Bible calls the fear of the Lord. This fear is not anxiety or dread, but a trembling awe: the awareness that we are finite, created beings standing before the infinite Creator. Such awe would naturally overwhelm us. Anyone unmoved in that situation would lack wisdom, which is why Scripture says the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. In Matthew’s parable of the talents, the key question is how the servants participate in what belongs to their master while he is away. Faithfulness is not passive; it is active engagement with what has been entrusted to us. The servants receive different amounts—five talents, two talents, one talent—but the first two receive the same commendation: “Well done, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your master.” The praise is not for success, but for faithfulness. God’s kingdom runs on faithfulness, not comparison. The third servant, however, buries his talent. In his culture, this was considered a safe, responsible choice. Yet what appears wise by human standards is not always godly wisdom. His explanation reveals the real issue: “I was afraid.” His fear distorts his view of the master and leads him to hide rather than act. This is not the fear of the Lord, which draws us toward God, but a fear that pushes us away. The master replies that even the smallest faithful step—simply placing the money in the bank—would have been acceptable. The problem was not failure but refusal. The servant did not trust the master’s heart and chose self-protection instead of obedience. True fear of the Lord restores our vision. It enables us to see clearly, leading to repentance as we recognize both our sinfulness and God’s righteousness. Such awe does not paralyze us—it moves us to faithful action and draws us into the joy of our Master.

Refusing the Kingdom

God’s kingdom is like a banquet, a generous celebration. The kingdom is a vineyard, with everything necessary for it to be fruitful. The invitation is still going out. Our lives should be characterized by the joy of inviting people to the banquet God has prepared, a banquet that is both present and future. Far too often our joy has been muted. The joy in our lives of the celebration of the kingdom should be so evident that the invitation becomes compelling.  But God’s kingdom is also marked by decision. The expected are absent and the unexpected are present. Some people say they are too preoccupied to come. Others presume they belong because of history, background, church attendance, or the right label. But belonging in the kingdom is not about labels. It is about loyalty to the king. The kingdom must shape who we are. The warning about the improperly dressed guest reminds us: invitation does not remove expectation . We cannot have the kingdom on our own terms. Grace is free—but it is not cheap. Grace invites you as you are. But it does not leave you as you are. This man wanted the celebration without the change. He wanted proximity without allegiance. He was a vineyard that did not produce any fruit.  We should be alert to the importance to the kingdom of the inclusion of those on the margins, those who we would not normally think of inviting. We should be suspicious if we look round at our gatherings and see that everyone present is like us. Beware if all the relationships we have at church are with people who we feel comfortable with. The parable is not about mission, but we need to reflect on who we are inviting to come and participate in the kingdom with us.  We must not lose sight of the theme running through both parables: judgment. We are uncomfortable with that word. Would it not be easier if God simply overlooked everything? But without judgment, salvation loses its meaning. Urgency fades. Justice evaporates. Accountability disappears. As CS Lewis tells us often, Aslan is not a tame lion. Grace is only grace if the outcome could have been otherwise, and the significance of life depends on accountability for life. We may not like judgment, but it is a central and necessary message of both Testaments and especially of Jesus’ teaching.

The Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard

“But he answered one of them, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend… Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?’” — Matthew 20:13–15 Jesus tells a story that sets off our fairness meter. People work different hours and receive the same pay. The early workers aren’t cheated, they get exactly what they agreed, but they’re furious that the late workers are treated as equals. That’s the sting of the parable. The landowner refuses to send anyone home empty-handed. And Jesus uses that to expose what happens in us when grace doesn’t match our instincts for reward. Our “fairness meter” doesn’t just care about justice, it also cares about comparison. It doesn’t just ask, “Is this right?” It asks, “How did I do compared to them?” The landowner’s question lands like a mirror. “Are you envious because I am generous?” It’s an invitation to drop the scoreboard. To stop turning faithfulness into a claim, and obedience into leverage. To receive what we were promised and still have joy when mercy meets someone else. It’s also a word of hope for anyone who feels late, overlooked, or behind. The landowner keeps going back. He keeps calling people in. Grace is welcome, not scraps. So this week, ask God for the freedom this parable offers. Gratitude instead of grumbling, celebration instead of comparison, belonging instead of anxious performance. The kingdom doesn’t run on earning. It runs on grace.