Proper 21 - 2025

Sermon for Proper 21, Year C
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty

Again, we find ourselves as we have the past two Sundays, still sitting with Jesus eating with “the wrong people.” The Pharisees and scribes are muttering about it, but Jesus doesn’t hush them—he tells stories instead.

First, a shepherd goes looking for a lost sheep. Then, a woman searches for a lost coin. Then, a father runs out to embrace a lost son. Each story ends in the same way—with joy. With a party. With the sound of heaven breaking open in celebration that what was lost has been found.

And just as the party is still echoing in our ears, Jesus tells more parables—ones that sound very different at first. A dishonest manager who’s praised for his foresight. A rich man who ends up in torment because he failed to notice Lazarus starving at his own gate.

These last two stories, from this week and last, are a jolt. What happened to the joy? What happened to the celebration?

But when you view all these parables together, you see the thread.

Jesus is pressing us to see the future, and to let that future shape our present.

The shepherd doesn’t say, “Oh well, ninety-nine out of a hundred isn’t bad.” He sees a different future—one in which all the sheep are safe—and so he goes out searching. The woman doesn’t shrug over a missing coin. She pictures what it would feel like to hold it in her hand again, and so she sweeps the whole house. The father doesn’t close his heart to his runaway son. He looks down the road day after day, picturing his child coming home, and so he runs to meet him when the moment finally comes.

Each one acts with foresight, and each one’s foresight is fueled by love. And each one’s story ends in celebration.

Now, the shrewd manager acts with foresight too, though in a very different way. He uses what he has in the present to secure a future. Jesus doesn’t praise his dishonesty, but his determination. “If only,” Jesus says, “the children of light were so shrewd about the kingdom of God.”

And then the rich man and Lazarus: here is someone with no foresight at all. Every day he walks past Lazarus at his gate. He has every resource to help, but he never lifts a finger. He doesn’t imagine a future in which Lazarus might matter. He only sees the present comforts of his own life. And by the time he opens his eyes, it’s too late.

Foresight. Love. Celebration.

The shepherd, the woman, the father—all imagined a future in which the lost were restored, and they acted with love in the present. Their stories end with joy. The dishonest manager, though hardly a saint, imagined a future and acted shrewdly toward it. But the rich man—he never lifted his eyes to see the kingdom. He never looked with love toward the one at his own gate. His story ends not in celebration, but in sorrow.

Friends, this is what Jesus wants for us: to live now in light of God’s coming kingdom. To see with foresight. To act with love. To throw open our doors and our lives in celebration when the lost are found and the broken are restored.

Because that’s God’s own posture toward us. When we were far off, God came running down the road. When we were lost, God swept the house until we were found. And when we were dead, God raised us to life in Christ Jesus.

The feast of heaven is being prepared. The table is set. The music is already playing. The only question for us is: will we live now with that joy in our hearts? Will we see others—especially the ones the world overlooks—as future guests at God’s party?

May God give us eyes to see, hearts to love, and the courage to celebrate whenever the lost are found.

Amen.