An Awkward Dinner with Jesus
Luke 14:15-24
June 29, 2025 anno Domini
Have you ever been at a meal when the conversation gets uncomfortable? Maybe a husband and wife carried their ribbing too far, and now one of them is mad. Or someone suggested President Trump was doing a great job—in the company of some die-hard Democrats. What do you do when you’re at the table? You change the subject. “Boy, I sure hope the Twins snap their losing streak.” “What do you think about all this rain?” “Did you see they’re putting in another round-about?”
That sort of comment begins the text. One of the guests at the dinner, having heard what Jesus just said, replied, “Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” It’s a wonderful statement. Everyone who is in the Kingdom of God and enjoys feasting with Christ is blessed. But the man is trying to change the topic of conversation at the dinner table. Jesus has made his host and the other guests uncomfortable. They’re squirming. They want it to stop. But Jesus doesn’t stop—because He wants to save them, and He wants to save you.
What made dinner so uncomfortable? Jesus did. A ruler of the Pharisees was hosting the meal—but all eyes were on Jesus. It was the Sabbath, and the Pharisees had a whole list of rules and regulations about what could and couldn’t be done. Sometimes Jesus acted like He made the rules—and He could do with them as He pleased.
They put a sick guy beside Jesus. He asked them, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?” They didn’t answer. He healed the guy and sent him away. Then He asked them if they would help their son or even an ox who had fallen on the Sabbath? Once again, awkward silence around the table.
Next, when Jesus saw how they were seated, He chided them for taking places of honor. He told a parable that concluded everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. Ouch—now He was getting personal.
Finally, Jesus told them that real hospitality didn’t mean inviting your friends over—after all they can repay you. Instead, He said, Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, because they cannot repay you. For that, you will be repaid in the resurrection of the just.
Your invited guest is making everyone at the table uncomfortable. He has asked disturbing questions, admonished your table manners, and called you hypocrites. What do you do? Change the subject. “This lamb is delicious. Can I get the recipe?” Or in this case, someone makes a nice, neutral, nebulous, statement about the Kingdom of God.
But when it comes to the Kingdom of God and your salvation Jesus is neither nice nor neutral. He’s pesky and persistent.
A man once gave a great banquet and invited many. He sent out the “save the date” card, then a more detailed announcement, and an email address to which you could RSVP. And then—like your dentist or eye doctor—he sent out regular text reminders about your appointment. Except he sent his servants. What should you conclude from all this? He wants you at the banquet. He wants you to feast with Him. He has done all the work—suffering, dying, rising—and now the feast of forgiveness is ready. Come. Enjoy the feast with me.
The guests who refuse are the Jews. Their invitation was carved in the stone of the Old Covenant on Sinai and in the flesh of all those baby boys born in the Old Testament, beginning with Abraham’s son Isaac. The prophets were the servants updating the guests about the coming feast. John the Baptist announced all was ready when he proclaimed, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”
Why do people refuse God’s invitation to believe, to feast on Jesus? Because you can. God won’t force you. Because Satan has put other gifts of God in front of your eyes. In the text each excuse begins with “I.” But in the Greek, each excuse begins with the object leading them away – a field I have bought, a wife I have married. It sounds like Adam’s excuse for sinning in the Garden: “the woman you gave me.” When you excuse yourself from God’s invitation, are you, in fact, blaming God? If Jesus was more relevant, or forgiveness more fun, then maybe the invitation would be more appealing.
Jesus is pesky and persistent, like the master of the house in the parable. He is angry when people refuse—but that does not stop His generosity or hospitality. He sends His men out again with His Word. Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in the poor and crippled and blind and lame. Time is running short. The banquet is ready. He wants a full house. He desires everyone to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.
Note how the invite goes wider. The first invite was to a specific people—God’s Old Testament people. If you will, the early invites were sent to specific people at specific addresses. Now, His servants go to the streets and lanes. Now He invites the Gentiles and Germans, Minnesotans and Michiganders. He instructs His men to bring them because they can’t come on their own power. His men are to carry the crippled and lead the blind, and hire an Uber for the poor.
This also teaches us the way of the Kingdom. You don’t get in under your own power. You wouldn’t get an invite if God didn’t love you—because you’re not that lovely. You wouldn’t accept the invite because your sinful nature wants nothing to do with God. So the Holy Spirit carries you by grace and faith—to believe, to accept, to come to Jesus. Not one of the second-round guests could claim any greatness or ability. The invite was by God’s grace, and that invitation produced faith—the desire to feast at the Master’s banquet.
The Master’s house was still not full, so He sent His men on one last run. Go out to the highways and hedges and compel people to come in, that my house may be filled. Now His men left the city. They went out into the land of rocks and cows. They went to rural Benton County—and they didn’t mess around. They compelled people to come in with harsh words and sweet words. You’re a mess. You’re filthy. Don’t you want a better life. Come. We’ll get you washed up, put you in a new set of clothes, and you’ll sit down to a sumptuous banquet like you’ve never eaten before.
That’s what His preachers still preach. Look at you in your sins. Don’t you want out of your mess? Keep that up and you’ll die. Come with me. We’ll get you washed clean in the waters of baptism, clothed in Christ’s righteousness. Join us at the feast of life that is given in Christ’s body and blood. Now. Don’t wait. God wants His house to be filled. And when it is the door will be closed.
That’s uncomfortable talk for the dinner table, but Jesus doesn’t care about your comfort. It’s the Devil who wants you to be comfortable. Jesus wants you to be fed—at the great feast of His Kingdom. It’s a feast of forgiveness, but that means it’s only for sinners. And who wants that on their invitation? Dear Mr. and Mrs. Filthy Rotten Sinner, You are cordially invited to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb and His Kingdom. Don’t delay. You need forgiveness. And we have it—in the waters of baptism, in the Word preached, and in the Supper given. Come, In the name of Jesus. Amen.