CMLC 2025-08-24 Sermon

Back in 2013 I flew off to China to become a

teacher and when I was there we had our opening

day our orientation at the main EF school in

Shanghai I was in there and everything was going

well. We were learning how everything was going

to work It was time for us to go to a different

room. So I started walking toward the door and

BAM All of a sudden the doorway would not let

me through I was stunned There was this doorway

in front of me, and I couldn't seem to get through

it. What is going on? I felt blood on the side

of my eyebrow. I realized I just walked face

first into a giant plate glass window. To this

day, there's a little scar right here where the

hair doesn't quite grow in that eyebrow. It turns

out the cleaning ladies there in Shanghai did

their job so immaculately that the windows were

spotless. Not a smear, not a smudge, not even

a fingerprint. Completely invisible until my

head hit it. That moment sticks with me even

more than the scar because I thought I was walking

through the door only to find out there was no

door at all. What looked like the way forward

was really a wall in my way. And that's a picture

of what Jesus gives us today in our passage.

There is a true door, a way into the kingdom

of God, but not everything that looks like a

door is really a door. Some ways lead nowhere

but pain and injury. But there is one doorway

that opens and Jesus tells us it's narrow. See,

that's the kind of picture Jesus gives us in

today's reading. There is a door to God's kingdom.

It's not wide, it's not obvious, like one may

expect. It's narrow. Just because something looks

like the way in doesn't mean it really is. Jesus

says, make every effort to enter through the

narrow door because many, I tell you, will try

to enter and will not be able to. And he gives

this sobering image, people standing outside,

knocking, pleading, saying, but we ate and drank

with you. You taught in our streets. And the

master of the house says, I don't know you or

where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers.

He's not talking about people who never knew

him. These are not strangers who had never heard

the gospel. These are people who were around

it all the time. They ate at the table. They

heard His teaching. They were in the crowd. These

were the people who may have been smiling and

laughing at His terrible jokes. And we see this

today, don't we? People who grew up in church.

People who can tell the Bible stories by heart.

People who sang in the choir. Went on the mission

trips. Even taught the Sunday School. They can

talk about what it meant to them once upon a

time. Yet, somehow along the way, they turned

and said, it's not really who I am anymore. Some

walked away quietly. Some chased after other

philosophies or religions, spirituality. Some

decided to believe only what they could see and

measure, and maybe some just never truly came

to faith anyway. When you hear Jesus' words,

I don't know you. It's chilling. Because you

realize that knowing about Him is not the same

as being known by Him. But aren't we all baptized

into Christ and thereby certain of our future?

For some, baptism though becomes a family heirloom.

It's like grandma's silver in the china cabinet.

It's like all the dishes that your great aunt

wanted you to keep because she doesn't want them

in storage anymore. It's something that proves

you're part of the family, a cultural label,

a family tradition, a frame on the wall. Something

that says, this is who we are, but not always

with the living faith behind it. That's not a

new problem, though. The church fathers, they

already saw it back in the day. Tertullian, in

the second century, worried about parents bringing

their infants to baptism as if it were just a

cultural mark. Something that might be claimed

without the child ever growing into the responsibility

of faith. Augustine, on the other hand, defended

the baptism of infants, but he also said, just

because you were washed in water once doesn't

mean you can live faithlessly forever. Baptism

demands a lifelong turning back to Christ. Martin

Luther wrestled with it too. In his large catechism,

he warns about people who reject their baptism.

To reject baptism is to despise God's word, His

covenant, indeed His entire work of salvation.

He reminds us, our baptism abides forever, but

it profits only those who keep faith and cling

to Christ. Luther knew well that plenty of baptized

people drift away. Treating baptism like a certificate

in the drawer, a magical insurance policy, but

not like a living promise. And that's exactly

what the writer of Hebrews is warning us about

through the story of Esau. Esau had the inheritance

of the firstborn, the blessing, the promises

of God handed down through Abraham and Isaac,

but he treated it as though it were nothing more

than a bowl of soup. He gave up something eternal

for something temporary. Something sacred for

something that could never satisfy. Something

that He allowed His brother to have and gave

away all the blessings that were intended for

Him. In the same way, how many today have taken

the inheritance in baptism, our faith, our following

of Christ Jesus, and traded it away for comfort,

normalcy, success, self -made identity, or just

the freedom to do life? however we wish. Like

Esau, they may one day look back with regret,

but the warning is clear. Don't despise what

God has given you. Don't sell your birthright

in Christ for the sake of things that do not

last. But isn't that what we see today? Some

people will tell you about the pastor who baptized

them, the building they grew up in, maybe even

the water that they felt. They could even say,

we ate and drank in your presence and we enjoyed

the chili cook -off too. But now, how many have

walked away? They've taken the inheritance, a

cultural model, a piece of identity, but forgotten

the living, saving faith. And that's the danger

Jesus is warning about. He isn't speaking to

people on the outside. He's speaking to those

who were there with Him, who thought they were

in just by being there. and hearing a good message,

but in the end may hear, I don't know you or

where you come from. But what does it mean for

us? The narrow door is not just a call to try

harder, to measure up, to outperform the world

around us. You're not doing good enough, all

you. If that were the case, none of us would

ever make it. It's not as if we can do something

so great and amazing that it undoes all of our

sins and corruption and gets us into heaven.

The truth is, we've all done things that cry

out against us, hurtful things, spiteful words,

broken promises, even sins we've wrapped in religious

packaging and excused in the name of Jesus, though

we know full well he would never have approved

of them. But the door is not closed. The writer

of Hebrews gives us a powerful image, two voices

of blood. The blood of Abel shed in the very

first murder cried out for vengeance. But the

blood of Jesus cries out something very different.

Mercy. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. A new life

that is completely one for us. Augustine noted

that baptism and Christ's blood are gifts that

are freely given, not things we earn. but the

means by which God draws us into his life. Tertullian

and Cyprian similarly emphasize that even infants

baptized in faith yet cannot express it receive

this gift because it's God's work and not ours.

Martin Luther picked it up saying our baptism

abides forever but it profits only those who

keep faith and cling to Christ because he was

trying to point out that it's not about performance.

It's not about striving to make ourselves acceptable.

It's about receiving, living in, and walking

daily in the reality of Christ's mercy, that

He has given us freely, without our own efforts.

And that's why the door is Christ Himself. It's

not asking you to perform your way in, to prove

yourself worthy, or somehow live a Christian

life that's good enough to qualify. He's the

one who's already walked through death. risen

again, so that you may walk in Him. So the question

is, no longer have I done enough, the question

is, am I living in Him? It's not about striving

to earn, but receiving what was won. Not trying

to become something better so God might accept

us, but realizing we're already accepted in Christ.

So we live in that faith instead of walking away

from it. So now, let's ask something a little

more practical. If the door is Christ, if His

blood has already spoken mercy and life over

us, how do we live into that? How do we respond

to the inheritance we have in our baptism? First,

it's not about performance. We're meant to walk

in the gift, not performance. Baptism is not

a checklist, starting gun. It's a gift of new

life. It's a promise God has claimed us, washed

us, buried us in Christ that we might rise with

Him. The work's been done, but what's remaining

is not the earning, but walking in the reality.

Second, we discern the door in our daily choices,

not just once a week when we're expected to for

an hour, but each and every day. The narrow door

reminds us that Christ himself defines the way.

We don't follow vague ideas or cultural Christian

values, we follow Jesus, who He is, all that

He has said and done, asking, who is Christ calling

me to be today? How does His mercy shape my relationships,

my work, my family, my community? In these daily

acts of obedience, we live out the baptismal

promise. Third, we're supposed to turn from what

keeps us outside. Don't keep walking into the

wrong door. It's not a door. Hebrews reminds

us that God disciplines like a loving father,

guiding us away from paths that would harm us

or lead us away from his presence. Sometimes

it means we need to say no. No to the habits.

No to the patterns. No to the relationships that

pull us from Christ. And if we're having trouble

with that, find those who can help you. Sometimes

it means enduring difficult seasons with patience

and hope, but it always means the discipline

of God is a sign that we're invited into life,

not condemned. And finally, the community nurtures

our faith. We don't live faithfully by ourselves.

Doesn't work very well that way. Just as the

early church fathers emphasized, as we were hearing

today, faith is nurtured amongst God's people.

Our inheritance in Christ calls us to live as

a body, together, to encourage and correct and

support one another, so that the narrow door

is not a solitary struggle, but a path that we

walk together in mercy and grace. So living faithfully

after baptism, it's not a matter of proving ourselves.

But do we receive the gift freely given, follow

the narrow way, and live in the reality of Christ's

blood? As we consider that though, we need to

remember something. It's not always easy, and

it doesn't always feel fair. Sometimes we encounter

hardship, suffering, challenges that make us

wonder, God, what did we do wrong? What did I

do wrong? Why do I feel cast out? Do you even

love me? And Hebrews gives us a very clear picture.

The Lord disciplines the one He loves, chastises

every son He receives. Because discipline is

not rejection. Discipline is a part of love.

It's a sign of God's love. It's saying, I care

enough to redirect you. I care enough to keep

you on the path that leads to life. There are

three things that we oftentimes see and wonder

about. Sometimes God may have to have direct

correction with us. He sometimes has to bring

situations into our lives to get our attention.

To show us that we need to turn, to rethink,

to change direction. His direction is like a

loving nudge. It's firm. But it's meant to protect

us and guide us toward the narrow way But then

there are times where it's just natural consequences

God sometimes just lets things play out as our

choices unfold It's not about punishment. It's

a reality check He sometimes just allows reality

help us understand the impact of our actions

And the wisdom of living according to his ways

instead of ours but third It's about refined

trust. Because sometimes hardship is simply to

draw us closer to Him. Even when nothing outward

changes, the seasons teach us to cling to God.

To trust His sovereignty and to recognize that

He is at work even when we cannot see the full

picture. See, what I didn't realize until I was

in China is that I had a lot of trouble going

through doors. While I was there, I was trying

to show a class how to play a game Duck Duck

Goose and so as I saw all these grown -ups sitting

in their seats and I went Duck Duck Goose and

I ran as you're supposed to with the game but

I was trying to get their attention and interact

with them but I ran so hard through the doorway

swung my leg out just a little too far the one

that sticks out a little to the side kicked the

edge of the doorway and broke my big toe. Snap.

You know, pain makes you cry, but so much pain

that you just laugh and you start scaring people?

One of those days. I spent the last three months

of my time in China hobbling around on crutches,

asking myself, what's going on here? What did

I do wrong, God? Am I on the wrong path? Was

my mom completely right to be afraid of me going

to China and managing to get myself hurt? And

there I was, in the midst of the vulnerability,

but realizing that God was still providing for

me. See, sometimes life just happens. And it's

just meant to be a reminder to slow down, to

pay attention, and to trust God's care, even

when life doesn't go as we expect. In all these

cases, the Lord's discipline is not condemnation.

It's mercy. It's guidance. It's the loving hand

of the Father inviting us to walk through the

narrow door. Not around. Not against. Through.

To live faithfully in Christ. To embrace our

inheritance. To embrace our baptism. Remember

that glass door in China? At first, I thought

it was the way forward. Everything looked clear.

Everything looked perfect. Everything appeared

to be right in my eyes. But I ran straight at

it only to discover it wasn't a door at all.

It was a plate glass window and I bled and I

stumbled and I broke my face. Yet the actual

doorway, the real way through, was still wide

open. It may be a narrow door, but it's more

than wide enough for us. Anyone could have gone

through it. And the fact that I ran into the

window didn't mean there was anything wrong with

the path. It meant I needed to slow down to pay

attention and to go the right way. And that's

exactly what Jesus is showing us today. The narrow

door is not about excluding us or making life

harder. It's about safeguarding us. Making a

way to make sure we're not hurting ourselves

down the wrong path. A way to keep us from harming

or making worse. Christ wants us to get through.

He's made the way. He opened the door by shedding

His own blood. It wasn't my blood that could

open a doorway. How often is it that our blood,

our efforts, our struggles do absolutely nothing

to make the way open? We just bleed on everything.

None of our mistakes, our efforts, our struggles

can ever make a way. It's only His. As much as

we may bleed, for the windows that we want to

push open. It's not our way that ever opens the

door. The only way through the path is the one

that He's already prepared. So just as God allows

discipline in our lives, the hardships, the corrections,

the natural consequences, let us remember that

it's not to harm us, but to guide us. To keep

us on the path of life, to the inheritance we've

been given, to the mercy that Christ's blood

speaks as a better word. Because today the door

is open. Christ is waiting. Will you go through?

Thanks be to God.