The scandal of mercy

Scripture Reading: Matthew 9:9–13

This morning's scripture reading comes from Matthew chapter 9, verses 9 through 13. I'm just really thankful for the many hands that have come and helped. I love seeing us as a body work together in this, so I'm really appreciative of everybody.

"As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, 'Follow me.' And he rose and followed him.And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, 'Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?'But when he heard it, he said, 'Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means: "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice." For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.'"

Let's pray.

Lord, we just pray that you would speak to us through your word. I pray, Lord, that above all you would have your way, that we would have open hearts to hear from you today, and that you might give me clarity of voice and mind. In Jesus' name, Amen.

God’s Mission Has Always Been Coming Down

One of the things we really see coming forth as Jesus calls Matthew into his life is that Jesus is showing us, reorienting us, and revealing what God's mission has always been: to come near to needy and broken people. It is not for them to come to him, but for him to first come down to them. This is what Jesus has been doing as he goes out in ministry and calls this tax collector to himself. This has been God's mission from the very beginning.

If you think back to the beginning, Adam and Eve sinned in the garden and were running from God. They were filled with guilt and shame, and they hid themselves. God could have said, "Well, this was a science project gone wrong. Too bad," and kicked it to the curb. But no—God came down and pursued them. He sacrificed an animal and clothed them, signifying the cost of mercy and grace, but he pursued them.

Later, as the children of Israel came out of bondage in Egypt and were in the wilderness, God similarly created a tabernacle where he met with the people. In that place was the Holy of Holies, and on top of the Ark of the Covenant was a place called the mercy seat. The priest would come and sprinkle blood before the mercy seat. God's mercy comes down to us and meets with us in these places.

Ultimately, what Jesus is doing here is redefining everything about how religion in his day had become. Religion had become about going up to God and getting your life fixed and right. Yet Jesus reorients everything to God coming down and drawing us up unto himself. That changes everything. In Matthew 9, mercy is no longer a shadow—it now has a face, and that face is Jesus.

As we look at this text, we're going to answer three questions:

1. Why is Jesus here?

2. What does he confront?

3. What does it all mean?

1. Why Is Jesus Here?

First off, Jesus comes to Matthew. Matthew is a tax collector, and in Jesus's day, tax collectors were known as corrupt individuals and notorious sinners. Rome occupied Israel, and there was a system of exorbitant taxes. Tax collectors would profit by charging a surcharge on top of the tax, making money off their own people. They were viewed as criminals, crooks, and con artists. They were serving the Roman Empire, working against the people of God, and culturally and religiously seen as outcasts, enemies—worse than Gentiles in every way.

Yet Jesus goes along, sees this guy who is known for his corrupt role, who doesn't deserve salvation or God in his life, and Jesus looks at him and calls him to follow him.

In Capernaum, with Jesus's growing fame, Matthew surely would have known about him. The trade routes that went past a tax booth were prime lines of communication. He was aware of the ministry of Jesus. Yet here we see a picture of Jesus coming to someone who, from a religious perspective, seemingly doesn't deserve the recognition or the call. As a rabbi, you wouldn't call this guy of all people to follow you. He's the least qualified and the least worthy. Yet that's exactly the kind of person Jesus calls. He calls him to belong, to be a follower, and invites him into his crew of people who travel along and do ministry.

The Scandal of Grace

That is scandalous if you think about it. In our modern day, think about a con artist, a notorious sinner, a crooked Wall Street investment banker, or a corrupt politician who should have gone to jail. Now imagine Jesus wanting that person in his crew of followers. There's a scandal to it. It's a complete reversal of who should belong and who should be included.

Jesus invites people not because they belong or think they belong based on their own merit, but simply because they want to follow. The invitation to Matthew, and to all of us, is: "Will you follow me? Will you come?" It's not offered to those who are well, those who deserve it, or those who are pretty good people. It's for anyone—all who are unworthy, all who don't belong. Jesus says you can belong. You can be known, invited, seen, loved, and included.

That invitation to belong calls for a response. Matthew understood the scandal, yet also the overwhelming privilege of what Jesus was inviting him into. As a church, we can often value people based upon their perceived worth: whether they're good, clean people who have their lives together and act right. We think those are the kinds of people we want to attract. But that's not how Jesus values people. His invitation is based on the one God chooses, the one who will get up and follow.

Rising Up vs. God Coming Down

Jesus redefines religion by renewing the original mission. I had a professor in college who talked about the message of the Bible, and he said conceptually it boils down to this question: Is it that we rise up to God, or is it that God came down and draws us up to himself?

The message over and over again, from Genesis onward, is that God came down to meet with us. It's not based on our qualifications; he draws us up to himself.

In Jesus's day, there was a temple on a hill. The understanding of the Pharisees was: If you want to come to God, you go up to that temple, offer your sacrifices, get your life right, start acting right, and then God will accept you. That was how religion worked. Yet Jesus comes and sits with sinners and tax collectors—people who shouldn't be included in circles of holiness, people religion says shouldn't be reached out to until they get their act together first.

Jesus does the exact opposite. He meets people where they are and breaks bread with them. In ancient Near Eastern culture, breaking bread and sharing table fellowship meant community, acceptance, and intimacy. There is something even today about inviting people into your home—it creates a deeper level of friendship and acceptance around the table. Jesus sits at the table with people religious folks wouldn't hang out with.

In John 1, it says Jesus came and tabernacled among us. The temple of God moves from up on the hill to around the table, in the neighborhood, and right in front of the tax booth. It shifts everything. It reminds us that it's not about us getting our lives right to go to God; it's God coming down and meeting us wherever we are—not because we are worthy, but because God loves and pursues his people.

Like Jesus, we are called to enter into the lives of people who are different from us, who might not be religious at all, to share life, break bread, and look for doors God opens to share the gospel.

2. What Does Jesus Confront?

As Jesus reorients everyone back to God's original mission, what does he confront? He confronts the Pharisees and legalism.

When the Pharisees saw Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners, they asked his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" To them, these were the wrong people to associate with.

The Pharisees represent religion. Religion operates on a simple rule: Obey, and then you will be accepted. Get your life right, do what God called you to do, fix what is broken, repent of your sin, and then God will accept you.

Religion vs. The Gospel

The problem with operating under religion is that we underestimate the depth of sin deep within us. A.W. Tozer put it like this: "It's not what we do that makes us sinful; it's what we are." There is something deep within us that is broken and off-kilter, making us prone to wander and go our own way. Religion says if you conform, follow the rules, live a good life, and avoid bad people, you will achieve righteousness.

Ultimately, that produces self-righteousness. It makes us look at our works and our goodness and depend on them. That leads to pride, makes us judgmental toward others, and blinds us to our true need.

The Gospel challenges religion:

• Religion says: Obey, and you'll be accepted.

• Gospel says: You are accepted, therefore obey.

Light Conquering Darkness

In the Jewish system of the day, you had to abstain from anything that made you unclean—unclean foods, dead carcasses, or sinful people—because contact would taint you. Religion puts up barriers: "You stay out there, we stay in here."

But God's holiness penetrates and tears down those walls. When Jesus comes into contact with unclean things, does he absorb the uncleanness? No! His holiness, power, and righteousness conquer and transform those things. Jesus is not made unclean by contact with sinful people or lepers.

Think of it like light and darkness: whenever you turn on a light in the dark, the darkness doesn't taint the light; the light drives out the darkness. So it is with God's holiness. Jesus goes into those places, showing that the power of God will drive out darkness, transform lives, and invade holiness into people's spaces.

When Jesus looks Matthew in the eye, Matthew realizes: "I'm seen. Everyone else told me I don't belong, but he says I can belong."

A Personal Need for Mercy

If we are honest, we have all been Matthew. I hope you don't think you've always had it all figured out or that your life has always been clean, because if you do, you'll start becoming like a Pharisee and forget your own need for mercy.

Years ago, I struggled with addiction, and my life had a lot of things going wrong. I began to feel intense guilt over the things I was doing. Months went by, and I tried to fix it on my own, but I couldn't. I started thinking about God, but I was terrified. I genuinely thought that if I came to God and asked for help, he wouldn't take me because he knew what I had done and who I was. I was afraid he would reject me.

We can never forget our need for mercy. Mercy changes us from the inside out. When you experience that kind of mercy and forgiveness, it transforms your heart.

3. What Does It All Mean?

What this means is that we all need mercy. Matthew needed it, and we need it too. If we forget that, we begin aligning our lives with religious people who say, "I'm accepted because I obeyed," instead of realizing that God scandalously came and offered mercy to us when we weren't even looking for him.

When God extends mercy to you, he renames you. You might be a tax collector, a drug dealer, or a prostitute, but he says, "That is not your name." He gives you worth and value, saying, "I created you; that's not who you really are." That awakens something inside a person and makes them want to live out that new identity. Matthew didn't want his old life anymore. He responded to the act of mercy that called him into the family of God.

"Go and Learn What This Means"

Jesus quotes Hosea 6:6 to the Pharisees: "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice."

Ironically, the Pharisees didn't think they needed healing. They thought, "We're not sick, so we don't need a physician. We have our religion."

Jesus tells these Bible scholars, "Go and learn what this means." It was a challenge to them: they knew the words of Scripture, but they didn't know the heart of God.

The Les Misérables Illustration: The Silver Candlesticks

Mercy disrupts us, but mercy also costs something. God cannot simply wave his hand and ignore sin; mercy requires a price.

Think of the famous scene in Les Misérables. Jean Valjean, an ex-convict, is taken in by a bishop. That night, Valjean steals the bishop's silver and runs off. The police catch him and bring him back in handcuffs, returning the silver to the bishop.

Instead of accusing him, the bishop says, "Oh, I gave those to him! But Jean Valjean, you forgot the best pieces," and he hands him two expensive silver candlesticks. The police leave, bewildered.

The bishop draws close to Jean Valjean and says, "Never forget this. With this silver, I have bought your soul from darkness and given it to God. Keep your promise."

Jean Valjean leaves completely disoriented. At first, he struggles, but the mercy he received haunts him. He realizes that if he rejects that mercy, he remains a wretch. But if he accepts it, it changes everything. The author writes that "mercy began to dawn in his soul." The bishop named him and accepted him not for who he was in that moment, but for who he could become.

Imputed Righteousness

Mercy cost the bishop his silver, and mercy cost God his Son. God doesn't just wave his hand; he absorbs our guilt, shame, and sin, paying the cost himself.

Theologically, this is called imputed righteousness. Jesus takes our sin and transfers his holiness and righteousness to us. When God looks at Matthew the tax collector, he no longer sees the corrupt outcast—he sees his son clothed in the righteousness of Jesus.

That is what happens for every sinner who comes to Jesus: he absorbs our sin and gives us his holiness. That light penetrates our darkness and changes us forever.

Like Matthew, we are commissioned to open our tables, enter into people's lives, and extend that same mercy to others—standing like Jesus and calling people to belong, to be known, and to meet a God who loves them.

Let's pray.

Heavenly Father, we thank you for your incredible mercy. We are reminded that we didn't earn our seat at the table, but that you came down and pursued us when we were far from you. Help us to never fall into the trap of self-righteousness or religion. Keep our hearts soft toward those who are hurting, broken, and far from you. Use us to pull up chairs for others, to share our lives, and to show the world the scandal of your grace. In Jesus' name, Amen.