Another Sermon on God's Grace and Steadfast Love... because we need to hear it again.

September 6, 2026

Matthew 18:10-20/Romans 13:8-14

            This is week six in this section of Paul’s letter to the church in Rome, where he has been building one steady argument: God’s grace and steadfast love are the means through which God saves… Jew and Gentile alike… and that same grace and steadfast love are what consecrate the Christian life. Everything Paul has said about living as Christ’s people flows from that center.  Listen now as Paul continues by reminding us once again what is the basis of the law.  Hint… it’s going to be grace and steadfast love.

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            Before we return to Paul’s words this morning, I want us to linger with Matthew for a moment, because Matthew refuses to let forgiveness remain a safe detached theological idea. He takes the familiar image of the shepherd searching for the one lost sheep… an image we perhaps love because it lets us imagine God and not us doing the hard work… and Matthew places it directly into the life of the church. “If another member of the church sins against you,” Jesus says, “go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone.” Have a conversation between yourselves.  Don’t let the sin… the distance that has come between you… grow and fester in the silence.  Suddenly the shepherd is not God alone… metaphysically… miraculously… repairing the breach. The shepherd is us.  We are also the sheep in this metaphor.  How many times has it happened that you thought you were the shepherd only to realize that you were really the lost sheep.  Shepherd and sheep… sheep and shepherd… coming back together in relationship.  That’s what matters the most.  A community forming and reforming.

            Matthew insists that forgiveness is not something we are to admire from a distance. It is something we are to practice. And practice, as we know, is never easy. Forgiveness requires vulnerability. It requires honesty. It requires the courage to speak and the humility to listen. It requires us to risk being misunderstood, risk being rejected, risk being hurt again. Without the work of forgiveness, two people get lost… the one who wandered and the one who refuses to go looking. Separation becomes mutual.  Neither sheep nor shepherd… however you might imagine yourself… is untouched by the brokenness. The distance becomes shared. The relationship fractured on both sides.

            What makes this passage even more challenging is the line we often misread as an escape hatch: “treat them as a Gentile and a tax collector.” We hear that and imagine permission to write someone off. We imagine Jesus saying, “Well, you tried. You did your part. Now you can let them go.” But Matthew will not let us forget how Jesus treated Gentiles and tax collectors.  It’s why I wanted to add those previous verses to our reading this morning. When we put the larger reading together, the two lessons have to harmonize.  The one lost sheep is valued in the first lesson.  The “lostness” of that sheep cannot then be justified in the second lesson.  It doesn’t work that way.  It’s steadfast love all the time.  Steadfastness is not a part-time quality that we get to decide when to turn on and when to turn off.  That literally isn’t steadfastness.

            Jesus welcomed Gentiles and tax collectors. He ate with Gentiles and tax collectors where others had written them off as unsavable.  He acted toward them in a steadfast manner.  Jesus steadfastly restores them like the one lost sheep. The very people we are tempted to dismiss are the people Jesus made a point to gather in. The loophole closes.  We are not given a way out.  If you remember anything from today… remember that.

            And then Paul enters the conversation with a line that sounds simple until you try to live it: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.” Love, Paul says, is the debt we never finish paying. It is the shape of the Christian life. It is the fulfillment of the law. And Paul… like Matthew does with forgiveness… does not leave love as some vague emotion.  “Love your neighbor as yourself.” It keeps coming back to love, not because we force it, but because in Christianity love is the main thing. Everything else is commentary.  I’m sure someone has said that… or something very similar… somewhere along the way.  There is no Christ without love.  There is no Christianity without love.  There is no Christian without love.

            So… if love is the main thing, then why does it feel so difficult? Why isn’t love the main thing of every form of Christianity? Why does love feel so unrealistic in the world we actually live in today where power and control or self-righteousness or financial and popular success is the main thing in so much of Christianity? We can speak about love inside these walls with conviction and hope, but once we step outside, love becomes counterintuitive. Love does not always protect us. Love does not always make us safe or satisfy the certainty that we crave. Love does not always align with common sense. Love does not always win arguments or resolve conflicts. And because of that, it is easy to treat love as an ideal rather than a discipline… as something we admire… and give lip service to… but rarely attempt to live into.

            I think part of the struggle is that we often imagine love as a feeling rather than a practice. We imagine love as something that wells up naturally from within us. But Paul is not talking about affection. Paul is talking about commitment. Paul is talking about a way of life. Paul is talking about a posture toward the world that does not depend on how we feel about the world in the moment. Love, in Paul’s sense, is not sentimental. It is ethical. It is intentional. It is disciplined.

            And that discipline becomes even more demanding when we place Paul’s words next to Matthew’s instructions. Because Matthew tells us what love looks like when relationships break down. Matthew tells us what love looks like when someone sins against us… when our sin against another gets exposed and brought into the light.  Matthew tells us what love looks like when forgiveness becomes necessary. Love is not simply kindness. Love is not simply warmth. Love is the willingness to seek reconciliation. Love is the willingness to repair what has been damaged… to make things better not just for me, but first for you. Love is the willingness to walk toward someone… or some situation… we would rather avoid.

            Paul understands this tension.  This human experience hasn’t changed since his time… and it isn’t going to change anytime in the future.  He knows how quickly fear can become our theology and resentment our liturgy. He knows how tempting it is to repay evil for evil. He knows how easily we justify our anger, our grudges, our distance. And so he writes with urgency: “You know what time it is.” The night is far gone. The day is near. Wake up. Lay aside the works of darkness… the quarreling, the jealousy, the self‑protection, the ego… and “put on the armor of light.” Put on the Lord Jesus Christ. Not as a weapon to strike back… or to strike someone down because of a sin of theirs that you perceive… but as a way of life that refuses to let darkness define us. 

            “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.”  “Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are.  Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.  If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.”  “No, if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink… Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  Those are the words that flow freely from this table we gather around.  Those are blood and body words.  Words that are to be made incarnate in ourselves.  Through all the tools and dimensions of love are we able to leave death in the tomb and walk into a new life of resurrection.

            I think Paul’s urgency is important. He is not scolding. He is not lecturing. He is pleading. He is pleading because he knows how fragile Christian community can be. He knows how quickly relationships can fracture. He knows how easily small minor conflicts can become large seemingly insurmountable divisions. He knows how tempting it is to retreat into ourselves, to protect our pride, to guard our wounds. He knows there are lots of wolves out there among the sheep ready to devour their souls by getting them to follow a false gospel that does not include the love of Christ… or the discipline of forgiveness.  He was one of those wolves clothed in an unloving righteousness.  Paul knows that the only way Christian community survives is through the discipline of love… love that forgives, love that reconciles, love that seeks the lost, love that refuses to let resentment have the final word.  Love that isn’t about forgiveness through demanding the intentional changing of the other into a more acceptable version of the other… but love that is being with the other and allowing grace and God’s steadfast love to work their power of resurrection on both.  Love that gives time… and an opportunity to be and breathe in God’s presence.

            This is where Romans and Matthew meet. Love is the ethic. Forgiveness is the practice. Together they form the cross we are asked to carry. You cannot love your neighbor without forgiveness, and you cannot forgive your neighbor without love. You cannot put on Christ without both. And this is where the challenge becomes real, because the world tells us that forgiveness is weakness, that love is naïve, that vulnerability is dangerous. The world tells us to protect ourselves first, to strike back harder, to hold grudges longer, to keep score more carefully. The world tells us that love is fine for nice children’s sermons but useless for our adult realities.

            But if love is naïve, then Christ is naïve. If forgiveness is naïve, then the cross is naïve. If vulnerability is naïve, then resurrection is naïve. And I do not believe any of those things are naïve. I believe they are the deepest wisdom we have. I believe they are the clearest revelation of God’s heart. I believe they are the only way the world will ever change and fulfill God’s vision for creation.  Amen.