So, What's in This For Me?

By James W. Crawford

Matthew 20:1-16
Many a pastor finds himself discouraged when his congregation, conceived in openness and servanthood, begins to fall apart at the seams. As he looks around, he sees his flock scrambling for status. Some of the old timers in particular throw their weight around; they try to cash in on their seniority. They have served as the committee chairs, the moderators, the presidents of the boards. So, they try to retain their grip on the power positions. After all, they have paid their dues; the church owes them something for loyalty and overtime.

Well, the Lord Jesus anticipates this ticklish issue of what loyal church people really deserve. What rewards can we expect? What satisfaction can we claim? If Christianity is so great, what's in it for me, for you, for us? What is the big payoff? And as usual, God uses Peter to play the role of the clown.

The question. Jesus has just told the disciples that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. Peter then asks in Matthew 19:27, "Behold, we have forsaken all, and followed thee; what shall we have therefore?" Or, to put it in today's language, "What's in this for us?"

Jesus first gives this direct answer: "Every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life" (v. 29).

Laborers in the Vineyard

The Lord then goes on to tell the parable that is recorded in the first part of Matthew 20:

He describes the kingdom of heaven as being like a landowner who goes early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. The landowner agrees to pay them a denarius for the day and sends them out to work. At about nine o'clock he hires another batch and promises them a fair deal; and perhaps at noon, another batch; at three he hires another group; and then as the sun begins to set, he finds some yet unemployed hanging around, makes a deal with them and brings them on board.

At the close of the day he calls all the workers from the vineyard and pays them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired backward through those hired at sunrise. He pays those last hired, those who worked the shortest time, a denarius. It's the same amount as what he has promised to pay those who began at daybreak. Knowing this, those who have worked all day in the heat of the scorching sun fully expect to be rewarded handsomely for their long hours. They stand in that line anticipating their promised denarius plus something extra.

Same wages. But what happens? That landowner pays them all the same amount of money. The folk who put in fifteen hours get no more than those who put in one hour. Now, those who started at daybreak are furious! They state their case. It's unfair, a rotten deal, a rank injustice.

The landowner listens and answers simply: "I made an arrangement with you. I honored it. Take it and go home. I choose to pay the latecomers the same as I pay you early risers. I can do what I want with what I own. And do you begrudge my generosity to these latecomers? So the last will be first and the first last." In short, there will be no distinctions among you.

Rank injustice? Now what odd notion of justice is being promoted here? Is this the first salvo in regulating the market, in experimenting with socialism, or in instituting "workfare"? How is one to understand this unfair, if not shocking, business practice?

The key to understanding this parable, friends, lies in the ownership and control of the vineyard. This passage sounds unfair, and it is, unless we reorient our thinking and readjust our day-to-day perceptions to the one overriding truth behind this parable: The vineyard belongs to Christ.

This vineyard is owned not by IBM, Microsoft or any other work ethic enterprise, where bottom lines are figured and then the rewards dished out, but by the loving, suffering, reconciling Christ who pays the wages. In this parable we are not dealing with the economic philosophy of Adam Smith or the Wall Street Journal in the business world, but with life and love in a vineyard owned and ruled by Jesus Christ.

And what does that mean? It means, simply, we live in a community founded and existing only to exercise Christ's healing, restorative, transforming love amid the human family. This healing community and its restorative mission alone are what
counts.

Irrelevant. In this community, in Christ's vineyard, nothingnot race, not class, not gender, not age, not experience, not high elective officenothing but the quality and intensity of our service in behalf of others cuts any ice. Our college degrees and seniority, our position as CEO, chairperson, and dean, and our titles like Doctor, Professor, Honorable, Reverend or whateverare all irrelevant to the overriding question: Are you immersed in and compelled by love to serve the Lord Jesus?

For that reason, the major issue of working in Christ's vineyard, as the parable teaches, cannot be expressed in such questions as "So, what's in this for me?" or "What do I get out of it?" Rather, it is measured in terms of the joy and privilege of serving Christ.

You see, enlisting in the effort to bind and reconcile the lost to God is to be a laborer in Christ's vineyard, co-working with other loving members of the family of God. And the wage, the bonus, the payoff, is working side by side, stride for stride, with the risen Christ in that healing ministry.

Self-centeredness. But for many of us, that blessing is hardly enough. Just like Peter, remember? Peter puts in his time with Jesus. He takes the brunt of three years in the Galilean countryside. He lives with the resistance, the threats, and the mockery of Jesus' mission. And finally he asks, "Anything for us, Lord? Have you something special for those of us who've been around since the beginning?"

Do you see what's happening? For all of his working near Christ, Peter spends energy finagling for perks. He ties his identity and security to the power slots, the heavy committees, the key pulpits. He's got his eye on a vanity plate, the embossed letterhead, the clergy discount. He angles for the corner office, the reserved parking space, the designation "honorable", and the title, "Reverend". In all fairness, of course, he deserves it.

Sound familiar? This world outside Christ's vineyard where offices, titles, street address, income brackets and tax loop holes are the quid pro quo for the competitive edge. Oh, this squeezing of credit from life.

And our churches are not immune. "Hey he's new around here. How come, he gets that high position?" Or, "I've put in my time. I should chair that committee." It's terrible isn't it, this incessant scramble for privilege and payoff outside Christ's vineyard, the world Peter and you and I live in most of the time?

An alternative. So, enter Jesus with this mind-boggling parable. He offers an alternative. He describes a different kind of world, dissolving merit systems, hierarchies, golden parachutes and such. To spend ourselves in turning the human race into the human family for Christ's sake, He says, engenders a unique but marvelous reward. The commitment of our lives to Christ's new creation is to be engaged in a work of nobility and grace in the kingdom of heaven.

When someone comes late in the day to join us in the vineyard they receive the same wages we do. And what is that wage? It is the enabling presence of the living Christ by his or her side, sharing, sustaining, offering encouragement and support.

The solidarity of Christ with us in a reconciling ministry to a troubled individual, family, neighborhood, city or worldwho can begrudge that wage to anyone? On the contrary, we can only rejoice in a latecomer's arrival! "My friend, where have you been? What took you so long to get here? We've been waiting for you! Thank heaven you've made it!"

And those who do come late and are granted the full wages of the vineyard, life in the loving service of Christthey do not mock those who labored since dawn. On the contrary, they ask: "Where has this been all my life? Why didn't I come sooner? How could I have learned so late of this joyous, exhilarating intimacy and service with the loving, compassionate Christ, which makes working in the mid-day heat feel like coasting in the cool of the dawn? Indeed, show me the needs. Where can I help? Who cries for justice? Where lies the toughest task. Oh Lord, just be with me as I take it on; that's all I ask!"

That is the truth, friends. You know, as well as I that when you work with someone you love and who loves you, you cannot get enough of it. Do you see, then, what is in the gospel for you and how the service of Christ calculates its wages? Not as Peter wants it as Senior Disciple, the Archbishop of Galilee, Cardinal Rock. . .you name it.

Real blessing. No, the payoff comes for him and it comes for us whenever we stumble into serving Jesus Christ in this marvelous yet troubled vineyard, at dawn, at noon, at dusk, at midnight, at three in the morning. Love's generosity comes whenever we stumble into that vineyard where the only work that counts is serving and saving humanity. And the wage paid is the peace and joy, the strength and power, release and friendshiphear that, friends, the friendshipof the risen Christ: encouraging, sustaining, supporting, standing shoulder to shoulder with us through the heat of the day.

Talk about generosity! What a reward: the solidarity, the comraderie, the joy of working for the peace and reconciliation of Jesus Christ in this, Christ's vineyard. Frankly now; who could ask for more? o

Rev. James W. Crawford is Senior Pastor at Old South Church in Boston, 645 Boylston Street, Boston, MA 02146.

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