Welcome back, friends, to the Semi -Seminarian
Podcast. Revival for your ears drifting in on
that late -night static. Grace sounds a little
like an AM radio tuned between stations. I'm
Pastor Jim Wellhelm, your fellow traveler on
this dirt road of Scripture, memory, and mercy.
Tonight, we're stepping into another one of Jesus'
parables. Time that doesn't sit still. Time that
reads you back. So settle in, breathe deep. We're
going to walk slow, think hard, and trust that
somewhere in the telling, the Spirit still speaks.
Now, it might not be Wednesday where you are,
friend, but it is where I am. And on Wednesday
nights over in the Fellowship Hall, real church,
full of real people, real lives. We gather around
tables that smell like casseroles and coffee,
and we open the word together. It's nothing fancy,
just scripture, laughter, long pauses, and a
room full of folks who are trying to hear Jesus
again for real this time. So pull up a chair.
Pretend you can hear the hum of the fluorescent
lights. You're one of us now. I'll see you on
the other side. I've already started and Wayne's
already thumbs up. So here we go. Hey, guys,
we're kind of at the end of the parables now.
And I deliberately kept this one for last because
of where it actually situates us in the narrative
of Jesus' life. And I'll get to that here in
a moment. But we've walked through tons of parables.
So let me go ahead and set the scene here for
our final installment involving a parable. There
is, we all know this, kind of silence that seems
to settle over a room when someone asks a question
nobody wants to answer. Every single one of us
have felt moments like that. Maybe it's in a
church board meeting when the treasurer asks
outreach where the missions money went. Maybe
it's at a family dinner when someone brings up
that cousin no one's talked about in years. Maybe
in your own kitchen at 2 a .m. when you're alone
with God, and the question hanging in the air
is, what did you actually do with your life?
That is the silence we're walking into tonight.
Now, last week, let me just situate where we
were. Last week, we sat with the ten bridesmaids
and the locked door. We wrestled with oil lamps
and midnight cries and the terrifying words of
Jesus, I do not know you. And we learned you
can't borrow relationship with God. You can't
Venmo someone your faith at the last minute.
Question wasn't what have you done, but who do
you know? Tonight the camera pulls back, way
back. We're not at a wedding anymore. Tonight,
we're at the end of the world. Now, like I mentioned
earlier, I've chosen this one to end with because
this was taught during Jesus' last week in Jerusalem
before his crucifixion. And one of the things
I want you to notice here is that as we've looked
at parables in the past, we had to kind of sometimes
fish around. for meaning in them. Jesus used
this language that caused us to really think
and ponder the words. Here, his words have become
less obscure. The language of his teachings have
become as direct as he possibly can be. The Son
of Man is coming. Not the carpenter from Nazareth
with sawdust in his beard. Not the... Rabbi with
mud on his hands and spit on his fingers. Not
the teacher who falls asleep in boats and gets
hungry enough to curse fig trees. The son of
man. The title comes to us from the prophecy
of Daniel chapter 7. The ancient of days. Handing
over dominion and glory and an everlasting kingdom
to one like a son of man. coming with the clouds
of heaven. Every throne, every nation, every
human being who ever drew breath lined up. And
Jesus is going to sort them like a shepherd separating
the sheep from the goats at the end of a long
day. Except the day that's ending here is all
of them. Every day that ever was. This is what
readiness looks like when the lights come up
and everyone can see everything plainly. Friends,
the reading of the word tonight, Matthew chapter
25, beginning with verse 31. When the Son of
Man comes in his glory and all of the angels
with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne.
Before him will be gathered all the nations,
and he will separate people one from another,
as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.
And he will place the sheep on his right, the
goats on his left. Then the king will say to
those on his right, Come, you who are blessed
by my Father. inherit the kingdom prepared for
you from the foundation of the world. For I was
hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and
you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed
me. I was naked and you clothed me. I was sick
and you visited me. I was in prison and you came
to me. Then the righteous will answer him saying,
Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you,
or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we
see you as a stranger and welcome you, or naked
and clothe you? And when did we see you sick
or in prison and visit you? And the king answered
them, Truly I say to you, as you did it to one
of the least of my brothers, You did it to me
as well. Then he will say to those on his left,
depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal
fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For
I was hungry and you gave me no food. I was thirsty
and you gave me no drink. I was a stranger and
you did not welcome me in naked and you did not
clothe me. Sick and in prison, and you did not
visit me. Then they also will answer, saying,
Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or
a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and
did not minister to you? Then he will answer
them, saying, Truly I say to you, as you did
not do to one of the least of these, you did
not do to me. These will go away into eternal
punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.
Thus ends the reading of the word, dear friends.
Both groups, sheep and goats, ask the same question.
When did we see you? The righteous are surprised
they passed. The cursed are surprised that they
failed. Nobody saw it coming, which means this
isn't about trying to pass a test. This is about
who you become when you thought nobody was watching.
You're standing there, not metaphorically, not
spiritually, actually standing there. All of
the nations, the Greek, Every people group that
ever existed pressed shoulder to shoulder in
a crowd so vast you can't see the edges. And
you're in it. The Son of Man sits on the throne.
Not the makeshift throne of palm branches and
hosannas he just rode into Jerusalem on. Not
the mocking throne of thorns. that will be shoved
on his head at Golgotha. This is the throne Daniel
saw in his vision. One that makes Herod's throne
look like a lawn chair. And the sorting begins.
Now, if you grew up around livestock, you'd probably
know what this looks like. Sheep and goats graze
together all day long. They look similar enough
from a distance, especially the dark wool sheep
and lighter goats common amongst the Galilee
region. But come evening, the shepherd separates
them, sheep on one side, goats on the other.
Shepherd knows his animals. He knows which one
is which, even when you can't tell the difference.
And you feel, you feel the movement in the crowd.
People begin to shift. A woman you don't know
ends up on your left. A man you've never seen
before ends up on your right. You look down at
yourself, half expecting to see wool or horns.
Some physical sign of what you are. You all look
the same. You feel the same. And that's when
the king starts speaking. The ones on the right
here at first. Come, you who are blessed by my
father. And then he lists it. Six things, not
seven. Seven would be complete. Perfect. The
number of God's finished work. Six is human.
Incomplete. A list that doesn't pretend to cover
everything. shows you what the kingdom looks
like when it has hands and feet. I was hungry
and you gave me food. You weren't there when
he multiplied the loaves. You didn't see him
feed 5 ,000 people with a kid's lunch. But you
remember the morning he made extra breakfast
and took it next door because you knew the single
mom was working double shifts and her kids would
be hungry. You didn't think about it much. Seemed
like the right thing to do. I was thirsty and
you gave me a drink. You remember the water bottle
you gave the guy holding that cardboard sign
at the stoplight. Your air conditioning was on.
Your cup holders were full. He was standing in
95 degree heat. Cost you nothing. I was a stranger
and you welcomed me. Family that moved in last
year, the ones... You don't speak much English.
You kept to themselves because they weren't sure
if they were wanted or not. You took them a casserole,
learned how to pronounce their names. You made
space for them. I was naked, and you clothed
me. Not literally naked, by the way. Greek here
is gypnos, which can mean poorly clothed, threadbare,
or exposed. You remember cleaning out your closet
and actually taking the good stuff to the shelter,
not just the junk you were throwing away anyway.
I was sick and you visited me. Nursing homes
smell like antiseptic and slow death. But you
went anyway. Sat with people who couldn't remember
your name. Couldn't give you anything back. You
showed up, though. Because showing up matters.
I was in prison and you came to me. Maybe, literally,
visiting someone locked up. Or maybe that prison
was loneliness, depression, addiction, shame.
You visited people there in those dark spaces
when it is much easier to stay away. And you're
listening to the list and thinking, when did
I do all of that? I mean, sure, I help people
sometimes, but I wasn't. I didn't think I was.
That's when you say it out loud. Out loud. In
the crowd on the right. Pums. Lord. When did
we see you hungry? When did we see you thirsty
or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison?
When did we see you? Because you didn't. You
saw Frank from the plant who lost his job. Saw
Maria who couldn't afford school clothes. Saw
a kid everybody made fun of. Saw the old man
whose family never visits him. You never saw
Jesus. And the king on his throne smiles, not
a small smile, a very big one. As you did it
to one of the least of my brothers. In the Greek
there, I have to have fun with this. Adelphon
mu, it literally means his siblings or his family.
You did it to me. Now, I also, since I threw
that out there, have to honestly. intellectually,
honestly say. There's also a note out there that
some biblical scholars think that when Jesus
said this, he was actually referring to those
11 other dudes standing beside him, meaning his
disciples. But I think you guys can all agree
the context of this seems to imply more than
just 11 people. My thought, you're welcome to
interpret as you wish. And it's not like you
were doing it to me. Not as if it were me. To
me, Jesus says. When you gave Frank that sandwich,
you were feeding Jesus. When you sat with the
old man, you were visiting Jesus. You see, the
ones on the right weren't keeping score. They
weren't building a resume for Judgment Day. They
saw someone who needed help, and they helped.
It was reflexive, natural, like breathing. What
sheep do, they follow a shepherd. And this shepherd
has always moved towards the broken, the overlooked,
the ones nobody else wants to deal with. So if
you're actually following him, If you know him,
like we talked about in last week's study about
the oil and the lamp, you start moving in the
same direction as him. Not because you're trying
to be saved, but because you already are. And
saved people see the world differently. Now the
king turns to his left, the goats. And the temperature
rises. Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal
fire prepared for the devil and his angels. This
fire wasn't meant for them. It was prepared for
the devil and his angels, it says. Hell wasn't
built for humans. But if you insist on living
like hell is your home, eventually, friend, you'll
get your wish. He lists the same six things,
but this time in the negative. I was hungry and
you gave me no food. I was thirsty and you gave
me no drink. I was a stranger and you did not
welcome me. You did not clothe me. You did not
visit me. And the goats standing there in the
crowd on the left, maybe you're one of them.
I don't know. They're genuinely confused. Lord,
when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger
or naked or sick or in prison and not help you?
And they're not lying. They really didn't see
him. They saw problems, inconveniences, people
who probably deserved what they got, or at least
can't prove they didn't. They saw strangers who
might be dangerous. They saw prisoners who probably
have done something wrong. They saw poor people
who should have just worked harder. Sick people
should have better insurance. Hungry people should
have planned better. They never saw Jesus. And
here's the thing. They were looking for him.
They went to church. They knew the Bible. They
had opinions about theology. They would have
absolutely helped Jesus if they had known it
was him. They didn't recognize him, and the people
actually needed help. The king says it. Don't
take my words for it. As you did not do it to
one of the least of these, you did not do it
to me. Colossin Aeonion. Eternal punishment.
Age -long cutting off. The same... he used for
eternal life just one sentence later. The destinies
are symmetrical. One is life. One is the opposite
of life. And the hinge, the thing that determines
which side of it you're on, is whether you saw
Jesus in the people that everybody else walks
past. Now, Before we spiral, let's be clear about
what this passage is doing and what it is not
doing. This first and foremost is not Jesus giving
a systematic theology of justification by works.
We are in the 21st century. Paul already wrote
Romans. If you don't know what it says, go home
and read it. We know grace is free. We know we're
saved by our faith, not by our resumes. But here's
what Jesus is saying. If your faith is real,
it changes what you see. Think about it. Last
week's parable, the ten virgins, was about relationship,
knowing Jesus, having oil. Tonight's parable
is what happens when that relationship is actually
real. Because if you know the shepherd, You start
seeing the world through his eyes. And you start
caring about what he cares about. And he cares
deeply, obsessively, relentlessly about people
everyone else ignores. The sheep aren't saved
because they fed the hungry. They fed the hungry
because they're sheep. It's their nature. It's
what knowing Jesus produces in you, naturally.
And the goats, they're not condemned because
they failed a checklist or a test. They're condemned
because their faith was just a costume, not real
heart conversion. They knew about Jesus, but
they never knew him. So when he showed up in
disguise as a stranger, a prisoner, a hungry
kid, they didn't recognize him. This is about
vision. The sheep and the goats saw the same
people, but they saw different things. You walk
past the same intersection every day. There's
that guy with the sign, cardboard, sharpie, some
story about needing help. What do you see? If
you see a problem, an inconvenience, maybe a
scammer, you're seeing like a goat. You see Jesus,
even for a second, even if you're not sure, you're
seeing like a sheep. The sheep don't calculate
whether the guy deserves help or not. Sheep don't
run a cost -benefit analysis. Sheep just move
towards what the shepherd moves toward. Does
that mean you have to fix every problem you run
across? No. Hey, Jesus didn't heal every person
he met either. But it does mean you can't pretend
you don't see. And it means when you do see,
when the need is right there in front of you,
you can't spiritualize it away or scroll past
it or decide it's somebody else's responsibility.
Because Jesus is telling us, that's me right
there. That homeless guy, that down on their
luck family, that kid nobody likes, that's me.
And if you wouldn't walk past, if you wouldn't
walk past Jesus, shouldn't walk past them either.
So what do we do with this? Some of us might
be sitting there thinking, I'm a goat. I've walked
past so many people. I've scrolled past so many
needs. I've justified so much indifference. It's
over for me. Stop. The fact that you feel that
means you're not dead yet. And here's what I
think. Holy Spirit doesn't waste time trying
to convince goats. They don't care. They're goats.
So if you're feeling the weight of this, It's
because you're called towards something, not
condemned for something. Repentance isn't our
shame. It's turning around. It's making a different
choice the next time. You walked past someone
last week. There's going to be somebody in front
of you this week. Turn around. See them. Do something.
Jesus isn't asking for perfection. He's asking
for direction. Are you moving towards the people
he moves towards? Or are you moving away? How
does this look practically? You're at the grocery
store. You see the woman counting change at the
register trying to figure out what to put back
because she doesn't have enough. You have enough.
You could cover it. Do you? You're at work. There's
that person everybody avoids. Every office has
one. And if you think my office doesn't have
one, you're probably the person everyone avoids.
Right? That's the person, right? Awkward, lonely,
doesn't fit in. You could eat lunch with him
or you could just say hi. What do you do? Do
you see an interruption? Do you see an inconvenience?
Or do you see Jesus? Because the king, friends,
is coming, and when he does, he's not going to
ask your doctrine. He's not going to quiz you
about your theology or your Bible knowledge.
He's going to ask you about the people you saw
and whether you saw him and them. We still have
time. The door's still open. The sorting hasn't
happened yet. To each every single person you
see today, is still another opportunity to see
Jesus. Every knee that crosses your path is still
an opportunity to move toward the kingdom instead
of away from him. You don't have to fix everything.
You just have to see. And when you do, when you
really see Jesus standing there with that cardboard
sign, in that hospital bed, in that lonely apartment,
in the county jail, you won't be able to help
yourself. You'll move. Not because you're trying
to be a sheep, but because, friends, you already
are. Amen? Amen. Thanks, guys. As we step away
from this passage and let the dust settle, I
want you to sit for a moment with that holy question.
Did you see him? Not in the stained glass windows,
not in the polished sermons, not in the verses
you already memorized, but in the faces that
crossed your path this last week. In the hungry
kid, in the lonely neighbor, in the person you
were too tired to deal with. Conviction, friend,
isn't meant to crush you. It's meant to call
you home. And comfort? Comfort is knowing that
the one who judges you is the same one who came
looking for you long before you ever thought
to look for him. If you missed him yesterday,
grace says you get another chance to try again
tomorrow. That's the good news. That's the gospel.
That's the shepherd who still leaves the 99 for
the one. Now, before we turn out the lights in
this little digital church of ours, let me give
you two invitations. If something in tonight's
study stirred you, if it helped you, challenged
you, walked with you for a mile or two, you can
always throw your like in the offering plate.
It helps more than you know. And if you'd like
to join us again, just tithe your subscribe right
here. That way, you'll know when we're having
church again and when the lights are coming back
on. Until then, friend, be blessed. You don't
need a halo to hit that button. You think the
gospel needs your money? Brother, it needs your
witness. You click that like like it's a revival
handshake. and heaven will count it as attendance.
Don't just sit there. Throw it in the plate.