Follow the Prostitutes--May 26, 2023

Follow the Prostitutes--May 26, 2023

[Jesus said:] "What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' He answered, 'I will not'; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, 'I go, sir'; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?' They said, 'The first.' Jesus said to them, 'Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him." [Matthew 21:28-32]

How's that for proof that God doesn't hold our past against us?  Jesus pictures the line of people queued up into the kingdom, and says the prostitutes and tax collectors are at the front of the parade, while the Respectable Religious people are at the back of the procession.  The folks everyone in Jesus' day would have branded as the most notoriously sinful and salacious people around were the ones who took up the invitation to a new beginning when it was offered to them, and God was willing to put aside any hindrances that would have stopped them from coming.  Meanwhile, it was the people who projected piety in public who never thought they had a need to start over, and so they passed by the chance to begin again.

All this Eastertide we've looked at the way God's kind of love lets go of resentments and releases us from the baggage of our sin.  And here on this last day before a new season and a new focus in our year of Learning Love begins, it's worth listening to Jesus' bold statement here: follow the prostitutes into the kingdom--they were the ones who took the offer of grace, while the Celebrity Spiritual So-and-Sos never wanted to admit they were desperate for that same grace.

And notice here, Jesus doesn't make those who were labeled notorious sinners into second-class citizens of the Reign of God.  He doesn't say, "Well, of course, the religious people still get top billing, because they were already so holy. I'll pity you sell-outs and sex workers and let you in the gate, but you'll have to be at the back of the link after all the truly 'good' people are in..." Jesus really is convinced that God isn't holding any of their past messes against them, no matter how complicated or deep-rooted those messes have been.  When the invitation to turn in a new direction, to be a part of the Reign of God, was offered, the people who felt most at a dead end were the quickest to take the offer.  And so, like the thief on the cross next to Jesus, desperate for a lifeline and leaping out into the arms of grace, it was the outcast and ostracized folks who jumped at the chance to be included after spending so long on the outside looking in.

This is what makes the Gospel good news, and not just a program for self-improvement.  It's in God's promises to give us a truly brand-new lease on life that frees us from the things others don't want to let go of.  It's not about having to feel a certain amount of guilt or jump through enough hoops of remorse to rid ourselves of the shame of where we've been--it's all about the promise of God not to keep track of how many times we got lost on our own in the far country.  It's rather like that line from Mumford and Sons' song, "Roll Away Your Stone," which goes:

"It seems that all my bridges have been burned,

But you say that's exactly how this grace thing works.

It's not the long walk home that will change this heart,

But the welcome I receive with the restart."

That's just it--the Reign of God offers a welcome and a new beginning, despite the ways we've gotten ourselves stuck in dead ends and ditches.  And by releasing us from those things, it really is like a brand-new life offered to us, a resurrection in the present moment, rolling away the stone that had kept us in the grave and letting us at last be free.

Now, here's the thing: someone you know is just aching to know that kind of new beginning.  Someone who might cross your path tomorrow, maybe even today, has been looked down on for so long and written off as a hopeless screw-up, and they have a hard time not agreeing.  But you could be the one who speaks the new beginning--you could be the one making the invitation to them into God's grace.  You might be the one today who doesn't treat them like a second-class citizen or a "less-than" sort of person, and you can be the one who tells them they have permission to begin again.  

Maybe as church, too, it's time for us to stop once and for all trying to make ourselves look holier by kicking out the ones with too much scandal attached to their stories.  Maybe it's time to quit pretending we don't need the new start of grace ourselves.  Maybe it's time to set aside our starched and saintly black and white dress clothes and to follow behind the motley and multicolored rainbow procession of anybodies and everybodies, the "dropouts, the losers, the sinners, the failures, and the fools," as Jon Foreman sings it in "The Beautiful Letdown."  Maybe today's a day to quit pretending we're holier than anybody and just take the free offer of a new beginning, even if we've been playing the religion game for decades.  

Maybe today's the day to get in line behind the tax-collecting schemers and sellouts, and follow the prostitutes into the kingdom of God.

Lord Jesus, give us the courage to believe you are not holding our failures against us, and give us the love to help others set aside the baggage they are ready to leave behind, too.