Learning from the Perfect Twelve-Year-Old

Sermon Transcript

The Bible goes to great lengths to repeatedly underscore the fact that Jesus was sinless—that he never sinned. I mean, think about even way before, hundreds of years before Christ came, in Isaiah 53. The prophet said, “Listen, this one’s coming,” and said two things about him: he would have no violence—which, not a super high bar there; and then it raises the bar real high—it says there would be no deceit found in his mouth. As James says later, you know, if you don’t have any problems saying things that aren’t true or any problems with the words you say, you must be perfect. And then Peter lives with him for years, as you remember, and ministers with him and knows him really well. He writes this in 1 Peter 2: he says (speaking of Christ) he committed no sin, and there was no deceit found in his mouth. Never lied, never said anything deceitful, never committed sin.

Jesus himself in John 8 stands before his accusers and says, “Who is going to accuse me of sin?” Right? “Who knows anything I’ve done wrong—say it.” I mean, that’s something you don’t want to say in a crowd that you hang with, right? I mean, wow—you’re saying to people, “I’m an open book; tell me if I’ve done anything wrong, ever sinful.”

I suppose one of the best summaries of the impeccability of Christ—that’s the doctrine we call it, “he hadn’t sin”—says this in Hebrews 4: it says that he was tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin. That’s a big truth. Now it makes sense—if he’s God and the incarnation: no sin. I get that; that has to be. But to say that there was a human being that lived on this earth that never sinned? I don’t know what you picture or how you picture that. I mean, I guess if you have to, you picture this first-century teacher—well-manicured beard, perhaps, nicely pressed robe, white, maybe tan, I don’t know—grassy hill, there teaching, Sermon on the Mount, finger in the air, pulling off another perfect sermon. I don’t know what you picture, but it’s some cookie-cutter picture of a person who didn’t do anything wrong. But I can pretty well assure you, you don’t think of this: a pubescent 12-year-old junior-high boy, right? “Sinless” and “junior higher”—those words never really enter into the same sentence most of the time. You can’t imagine, you know, some junior higher that’s perfect.

And so it is at the end of Luke 2, as we finish our study of this text, we’re introduced to a very mind-stretching and expanding scene: a sinless 12-year-old who does something that is at first a bit disturbing, and then later, quite revealing about the uniqueness of this child—the one that was called the Christ. Now, the question for us is to ask why it’s there. And as I’ve already introduced you, as we start preaching verse by verse through narrative texts like the Gospel of Luke, we need to find out the rhetorical purpose and why it’s there. So don’t get lost in the details without knowing why Luke has added it.

And what you’ll see—you might guess at first—well, if you look through Luke 2, we’ve got a progression of his life. And if you had a Greek New Testament out, you’d see this—and some of you might like: in verse 12, it uses the Greek word brephos; it’s translated, I think, in the ESV, “baby,” little little baby, an infant—that’s the word. And then in verse 40, when we get to the end of that section, it uses the word paidion—the word “child,” little child. But when we get to this text, we have another word in the sequence of development, pais, which is the word for “boy” or “son.” We certainly see the chronology of Jesus growing up in Luke 2 and think, well, maybe that’s just it—filling out the picture. Don’t think so. Why would we have a scene—the only canonical scene, the only reliable first-century historic scene from the life of Christ as a child? Why would this be included? Certainly not to satisfy our imagination; we can rule that out. I mean, this is not just to give us something interesting to talk about—although it is interesting to think about—and that’s why the Gnostics, two and three and four hundred years later, kept writing these fanciful stories, fictional stories, about the childhood of Christ. But the one historical, reliable account we have is, you know, not there just to make us think more imaginatively about the perfect child.

If you have been tracking with us through the first two chapters, you’ll recognize this about Luke 1 and 2: it’s an introduction. Until chapter 3 do we lay the facts—foundation of the ministry of Christ with the ministry of John the Baptist. And then we have the genealogy. And then we have the ministry of Christ. And it’s—you know, that’s how this book plays out. So we’ve got a very long introduction, a prologue to the book, in chapters 1 and 2, and, of course, it centers on the historic birth of Christ. But what we’ve said—and we’ve already underscored this, and teased this out of chapter 1 and 2 so far—there are various voices that are given to us in these two chapters that affirm that this was no normal child; this was not just a prophet. This child was called to be the Messiah. And when identified as such from the very beginning, as a matter of fact, we had already, last time we were together studying Luke, had underscored and highlighted six different voices.

The first one, you might remember in chapter 1, was Gabriel. And Gabriel comes and he says some very revealing things to both Mary and Zechariah: that the one that was going to be born here of Mary was the Messiah. He was going to fulfill all the promises of the Old Testament as it looked forward to the ultimate Son of David to sit and rule and reign on a throne that extended all over the world. So we saw Gabriel’s voice.

And then we saw, actually, Elizabeth, saying to Mary, filled with the Spirit, that the mother of her Lord was in the room—saying that the baby within the womb of Mary was the Lord, which is a big, big word. And so we had a second voice.

And then, if you remember the end of chapter 1, we had Zechariah’s song where he, under the Spirit’s guidance, starts talking about the way that this child is going to be the one who fulfills all the expectations of the Messianic hope of the Old Testament.

Then in chapter 2—classic text on the birth of Christ—we have the angel speaking to the shepherds, saying that “born to you this day in the city of David” is—not just any baby—“a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” So we have an angel—fourth voice.

Then we saw two characters. Last time we dealt with Simeon and Anna. Simeon, this prophet, takes Christ in his arms, and he says by the words that he gives Joseph and Mary that this is the Messiah. And then the sixth voice—it was Anna’s. And we didn’t have any details as to what she said, but she went around connecting this baby with all who were waiting for the redemption of Israel that would come through the Messiah. Six voices that tell us this was no ordinary child; that all of the Old Testament was ramping up to this person.

I think Luke adds this scene from Christ because it is the first recorded words of Christ—the scene from Christ’s childhood—that says the same exact thing in his own words. Now, the seventh voice is Christ’s own voice speaking up—the first red letters we have chronologically in the life of Christ—saying something that reveals he’s no ordinary child; that this was the one that Israel was looking for. And then the introduction is wrapped up and on we go into chapter 3—foundational ministry of John the Baptist—and then into the life of Christ. We need to see that for what it is. That’s the rhetorical, literary purpose, I believe, for this inclusion of a childhood story of Christ.

But to appreciate it, let’s get a little bit of the scene and setting—and then we’ll just spend a few minutes doing that—and we’ll spend the balance of our time learning a lesson from the perfect 12-year-old. And we’ll focus on that and allow that to challenge us here today on this Sunday morning.

So, if you haven’t already opened your Bibles, let’s get the context, the setting. I gave you, I don’t know, an inch of white space there on your worship worksheet—your worship packet. In there, you’ve got a place to jot down maybe anything that might be worthy of note. Starting in verse 41, the setting—one I’m sure you’re familiar with, this only childhood narrative of Christ. It says, “Now his parents” (verse 41; follow along with me here), “they went to Jerusalem every year.” Now, let’s stop right there and think: where did they come from? Where did we leave Christ last? Matthew tells us he took a detour to Egypt, comes back, Archelaus is in charge. Then he goes back to Nazareth. Shorthand, Luke says that’s where he’s at—Nazareth. If you remember from your maps in the back of your Bible, that’s up near the Sea of Galilee, which is many miles from Jerusalem, which is adjacent to the Dead Sea—not far from the Dead Sea—and separated by the Jordan River. We’ve got up north where Jesus was raised, a Galilean from Nazareth; down south the activity here at the Passover. And the Bible says they went every year there.

Now, that’s 85 miles on the dusty roads of first-century Israel—85 miles. If you’re walking three miles per hour—that’s reasonable, I suppose—you are going to take 28 to 30 hours to walk there. Now, that’s not your chosen mode of transportation, I assume. If you’re going to go 85 miles, how long would that take you? Well, it’s 30 hours; and it’s reasonable in the spring when this happens—going to take you three or four days to get there. Now that’s not outlandish; it’s not crazy. As a matter of fact, I’m sure there are things you’ve gone to that you’ve had to take a road trip for, that took you several days to get there.

If you want to take your map in your mind and plot through where it would take you for 28 to 30 hours of driving, that would get you from here to the city of Chicago, right, let’s say. And you’ve done that road trip before. I have done it many, many times. You go to Chicago; you leave Orange County, Southern California—it’s going to take you, I suppose, with a lot of NoDoz, just a couple days. But if you’re reasonable and you’ve got kids in tow, it’s going to take you more than that, and you’re going to take three or four days to get there. Okay? They did this every year. And they went there for the Passover. It says in verse 41, to the Feast of Passover.

And when he was 12, they did it according to the custom. It was the custom to go to Jerusalem—all of Israel—for the pilgrimage feasts. And there were three of them. There was the Passover feast, which was followed immediately by the Feast of Unleavened Bread—those two went together; it was a week-long celebration. Then you had the Feast of Pentecost, 50 days later. And then you had the Feast of Ingathering, or Booths, in the fall. So you had the spring—and, of course, that coincides with Easter and Good Friday; that’s how we track it—and then 50 days later, we had early summer; we had Pentecost. And then we had, in the fall after the harvest, the Feast of Ingathering. Now those were the ones commanded in the Torah, in the Old Testament, that you would gather for at the worship center to worship as a community.

Well, Israel, of course, at this point is all spread out. The custom was: you didn’t have to go to all three, but it was required that you went to one—once a year you were to do this if you were a devout person wanting to obey what the Scripture and the priests had said. You had to go to Jerusalem once a year. And they did that. So once a year for the Passover, followed quickly by the Feast of Unleavened Bread—it was a week-long celebration; started with a very somber meal and the sacrifice of the Passover lamb. And then you had a week of celebration and feasting and worship in Jerusalem. For a week you’re packing up; you’re going. It’s going to take you three to four days walking in your caravan and your family; you’re going to spend a week there; and you’re going to return. And that’s what they did.

Verse 43: and the year that he was 12 years old, when the feast ended—a week later—they were returning, and the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. Now his parents didn’t know it. But supposing him to be in the group, they went a day’s journey. And then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances. And when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him.

Now, that sounds really easy. But we’ve got some geographical context here. If you’re going to Chicago, and that’s where you live, and the feast was here in Orange County, and you’ve gone a day’s journey, where are you? Right? Now I’ve made this trip many times. If you’re going to take the route we normally take—you go up the 15; you go all the way through California; go through Las Vegas; you get into Utah; you pass St. George, Cedar City; you make the turn-off at the 70 and you start heading east. But that’s about where you’re going to spend the night if you’ve got kids in tow and you’re only driving 7–10 hours a day. You’re going to find a Best Western or whatever somewhere in Utah and take a break for the night.

Now, if you’ve left your kid in Orange County, right, and you find out you don’t have him when you’re in St. George, Utah—it’s a problem. And so just to read, “Oh, and they turned around and went back,” that isn’t something they just turned around and ran back. You spent the night; you had to gear up and get ready and turn around and go back. And you know Mom and Dad aren’t going to be happy, right? If you’ve made them turn around all the way—you’re in Cedar City, Utah—you have to turn around and come back. So that’s the scene here.

Okay, three days—verse 46. It says after three days they found him. Now remember the Jewish reckoning of time. It always bothers people with the death of Christ and the resurrection “on the third day.” This is how they did it: it was on the third day, if you will. They hadn’t seen him when they left; they traveled—day one; they spent the night; they came back—traveled day two; and they come and they find him there on the third day—after three days. He was in the temple. Now, he’s not in the Holy of Holies—right, you understand? There’s a temple complex. Herod had poured all this money into the reconstruction of the temple, and there are all these buildings and all these priests and rabbis and people floating around. He’s found somewhere in the temple complex there, a place to sit down among the teachers. He’s listening to them (verse 46) and asking them questions.

Verse 47—here’s the reason this text is here: “And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding”—now note the change in pronouns here—“and his answers.” So we turn from kind of quizzing the rabbis—to them going, “Wow, this 12-year-old has a lot of understanding”—to now this is turning into what you picture in the little children’s Bibles where they paint the watercolor picture of Christ holding court somewhere there in the temple complex, answering questions and schooling the teachers of the law. That is not normal, right? That’s unusual. Here is the indicative picture of someone who’s not a normal child. Even a normal prophet doesn’t grow up like this. Right? This is unique.

Now that may not be a strong argument to say, “Well, this is a messianic claim.” Well, if that’s not strong, just drop your eyes down to verse 49. Now we’re getting into the territory we’re going to draw our lesson from this morning. But at least look at what he says here when he speaks to his mother. He says, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in”—underline the next word—“my Father’s house.” Now, I know we’re so used to calling God our Father that it doesn’t bother you, and it doesn’t ring a bell. It’s just like, “Oh, okay, that’s interesting.” That’s a big deal. As a matter of fact, if you’ve never really thought about it, you should think about it. And if you did some kind of search in your Bible for every reference to God being called Father, you’re going to find the right side of your Bible, not the left side. I’m not saying there aren’t analogies and a couple references. But you really only start to see it explicitly when we’re starting to speak prophetically about what’s coming in the future—specifically the coming of Christ.

This is a unique thing for a 12-year-old boy to call God his Father. That’s odd. As a matter of fact—jot this in the margin if it’s not already there—John 5:18: it says they were already mad at him because he was breaking all the traditions of the Sabbath—they didn’t like that. But then it says this: that they were plotting to kill him—assassinate him—as an adult now, as he’s teaching; not because he was breaking the Sabbath—not only because he was breaking the Sabbath in their minds, right—but because he was calling God his own Father. That’s important. They saw that as blasphemy. Now, that’s blasphemy for a perfect adult—who you can’t charge with sin, who is walking around the countryside as the traveling rabbi with his band of disciples—that’s one thing. But here—kind of a greasy-faced 12-year-old (think this through now), sitting there, telling his mother, “You should have known where I would be. I would be in my Father’s house.” You want to talk about a claim—some kind of Messianic claim—there it is. All the way back to 2 Samuel 7—that allusion of the coming Son of David being in a relationship with God that was unique to anyone else. Now, we call God our Father—I get that. The trend in the New Testament was that we could because we’re in Christ. But that was a revolutionary, almost scandalous and blasphemous, thing to say here in this text. So at least you need to understand that when it comes to how people perceived that, that’s no normal conversation—to have and tell someone, “You’re at the Temple Mount and you’ve got to be in your Father’s house.”

Now, that’s why this is all here. That’s the rhetorical purpose of the text. And if we note that and check that off, that’s helpful. But I’d like to do now is to spend the balance of the time in the passage that we have remaining, verses 48 through 52, and take just a little time to learn from what Christ did here—a little bit from the circumstances that his staying behind in Jerusalem caused—and then how he handled it. That becomes for us a template. I mean, if you say you’re in Christ, if you say you love Christ, the Bible says you ought to walk as he walked, right? You ought to live as he lived; you ought to do the things that he did.

Now here’s something about a boy who had a responsibility to his parents—a 12-year-old boy—to fulfill his obligations as a son, and also a higher obligation to understand that ultimately he was the Son of God and answered to a higher authority. And his concern was ultimately the agenda of the Father. And if that caused some conflict here, it was because he recognized something in his life being more important than just being a dutiful son. Not that he was disobedient to his parents, but he certainly disappointed his parents in this passage.

So let’s take this text and learn a little bit about what Jesus was going through in his own life and what we will experience as Christians today, and how we can learn from his masterful handling of the situation. Starting in verse 48—let’s read through verse 52, and then we’ll jump into the middle and grab a few principles from this text.

Verse 48: “When his parents saw him, they were astonished.” Right? I can see why. They’re fielding questions from the teachers of the law and dialoguing as though he’s in with these guys and knows what they know. His understanding was amazing. “And his mother said to him,”—“How amazing you are and how smart you are, and how incredible it is that you’ve been here doing this while we’ve been traveling into Utah now”? That—she says—no. It doesn’t go over well with her son: “Why have you treated us so?” Right? Which implies what? You’re treating us badly—you’re mistreating us by doing what you’ve done. “Behold”—which, I wish they wouldn’t translate it that way anymore. You didn’t use the word “behold” in any of your conversations with your kids this week, have you? “Behold, son.” In Greek it’s the word “look,” and I wish they’d just translated it that way, because you probably have used the word “Look!” in your chiding of your children this week. Right? “Look”—good; read that. “Son, why have you treated us so? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” As you would be too, right? If you left the Messiah a day’s journey away.

Which, by the way, I should address this, and I’ve done it before, but let me go back for a second for a little context. If you think, “What’s wrong with Joseph and Mary? If you’re going to misplace a kid, don’t misplace the Messiah.” Right? I mean, you’re not going to get a Parent of the Year nomination for this event. Please remember this—and I’ve pointed this out before—but Matthew 13:55 makes it clear that Jesus was not an only child. I know we all dote on our only children, and I’m sure Mary and Joseph were very, you know, loving and concerned about their son Jesus, but he was the oldest. And according to Matthew 13:55, they name four of his brothers, and say he had a bunch of sisters. So I don’t know how many that is—it’s at least two. He’s got at least six younger siblings. And by the time he’s 12, you know, they’re all in various stages of development at that point. So you’ve got a lot of younger children.

Now, even if you have a lot of kids—I don’t know how many you have—but your oldest usually is saddled with a lot of responsibilities that the other ones aren’t, and you expect a lot out of them really young in life. Now, your oldest—I don’t know how responsible they were—but we’re talking about Jesus the Messiah. You can count on him—very responsible. You’ve left him behind thinking he’s with the group. Why? Because he’s usually attending to all of his siblings. He’s a very responsible, older child. And so it doesn’t reflect poorly on Mary and Joseph that they just assume that this child that has been so responsible, doing everything he’s supposed to do, is somewhere attending to the needs of his family. But he’s not attending to the needs of his siblings—he’s in the temple, talking theology with professors. And that torqued them. And she was not happy.

And he said, boldly (verse 49), “Why were you looking for me?” Now, that seems like just—not a helpful question, right? “Because we were in Utah and you were in Orange County, and we had traveled a whole day. What do you mean?” Then he says, “Here’s what I mean: if I wasn’t where you expected me to be, you ought to know that I’m just going to be doing the things that I have made my ultimate ambition and passion and priority. Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” That’s a bold thing to say.

Now, they did not understand (verse 50) the saying that he spoke to them. Now, verse 51—here’s an interesting twist: “He went down with them to Nazareth.” Remember the directional indicators in the Bible: if you go any direction from Jerusalem, you’re going “down.” Even though Nazareth is north, they went down to Nazareth. “And he was”—big word—“submissive to them. And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart.” That’s the second time we have that line in this narrative—the first time when the shepherds come back and say the things about the baby Jesus. “And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.”

Let’s jump in the middle and start there. Number one on your outline—verse 49 and 50: “Why are you looking for me? Did you not know I must be in my Father’s house?” Let’s just analyze it; step back. What is he saying? “I wasn’t doing what you expected me to do because I was doing something you should have known was my priority.” And that is God—information about God, knowledge of God, people understanding God, people that teach the truth of God. “You should have known that. I have an agenda—a big agenda. And if I’ve disappointed you, you just need to know I wouldn’t be doing this—this, you know, is my supreme commitment, my highest priority, my agenda.”

Now, that’s no different for us, because Jesus, twenty-five years later, would be teaching the same things to us over and over again: “Seek first the kingdom and his righteousness.” What’s the most important command? “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind.” Lucas did not preach this to you two weeks ago—that when it comes to your Christian life there should be no rival in your heart; there is one exclusive and ultimate priority, and that is that you love God, that you’re about God and his agenda. Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness. Number one on your outline—let’s just put it that way: just like Christ, we can learn from this text by keeping God and his agenda first—primary, absolute, supreme, preeminent above everything else.

Now here’s the point: some of you say, “Man, they preach this all the time at this church: God first, God first.” We do. And they even get really bad at people that just want to kind of co-pilot with God. You’re right—we do. We can bag on that all day long, and you’ve heard us bag on that. Why? You know, some people chafe against it: “I get tired; I don’t understand. A little God—just sprinkle God in my life. I don’t need to be a fanatic. I don’t need to be a Jesus freak. I don’t need to have this be all-consuming.” Yes, you do. See, because it’s the only right way to respond to God. God is to be preeminent in your life. Here’s the reason why—ready? Because he is preeminent. Right? God needs to be the leader of your life. Here’s why: because he is the leader. Right? You don’t want God to be anything but what God is, and you don’t want you to be anything that you’re not. And you are not to be—contrary to Henley—the captain of your own soul. That is not your job; you were not designed to be that. You were made to know God—to quote the great High Priestly Prayer from John 17. That is why God created you: to know him. And if you don’t extend that into his agenda and to make him known, your job is to know God, to live for God—in the words of the great Westminster Confession, to glorify God. That’s your job; you were created—that’s the chief end of man. That’s why you’re here.

And if God is anything less than supreme in your life, you’re trying to use him for something he’s not there for. He’s there to be supreme. And I guess I could illustrate it this way: it’d be as silly as you trying to figure out in your body which part of your body will be used for sight. Nobody worries about that, right? You don’t have any debates about that. You recognize that your eyes should be the one that lead your body. When you get in the car, you want your eyes to have a clear shot out the windshield; you want your eyes to do the seeing because you know this: your eyes were designed for that purpose. Now, your kneecaps may complain: “You know, I’m always down here staring at the bottom of the steering console. I never get out to see anything. I can’t tell where we’re going. He’s always wearing long pants; I never even get to breathe down here. This is terrible. I want to do the seeing. I want to be the seeing thing.” It would be silly for me to debate that. I mean, you wouldn’t want me with my kneecaps against the windshield, right, trying to drive—just so I can be fair. Right? “I just want equality. Right? If my kneecaps are jealous and they want to be in charge for a while, let them be. Let them lead the way.” See—silly. It doesn’t matter how jealous my kneecaps or my elbows want to be; my eyes were designed to see, and that’s what they’re there for, and that’s what they should do.

And God was designed to lead, and you were designed to follow. God was designed to be the King, and you were designed to be the subject. God was designed to be the Master, and you were designed to be the follower—the servant. And until you get that right, you will fight reality, and you will realize—if not in this life, in the next life—that is not how it works. That is a recipe for failure. And this is not about you just being a happy, fulfilled person—although when you start getting the order of the universe right, it’s good for you. But in the end, what you need to realize is that you were made to be someone who is all about having God be first in your life and nothing else. That’s how we were designed.

So this is not—we’re not picking captains for the kickball team, right? “Well, I want to be the captain. Now let Jesus be the captain. He’s always trying to have Jesus be the captain.” You are not designed to be the captain. You cannot have God as your co-pilot. He will not play that role because he was not designed for that role. That’s not ontologically who he is. And so we must concede—or, as I put it here, keep or reaffirm—that God is going to be God in your life. Any other ultimate love, purpose, or agenda is something less than it ought to be.

And, by the way, as Jesus put it in Matthew 6, you really can’t have any co-equal relationship with ultimate priorities; there can be no sharing of that ultimate spot. Jesus put it this way: you cannot serve two masters—remember that line? You just can’t. In this room right now, if I picked every one of you out of here and put you up here, we put the brain-o-scope on your forehead and we could look into your life, every single person would have something or someone that occupies the preeminent spot in your life. You’re living for something. Something is in charge. There’s one ultimate, supreme, governing, preeminent thing that you live for, and it’s either going to be God or, in category B, something else. And the Bible says it needs to be God, because that’s how you were designed. That’s what you were made for.

You were not made to be “your son, the son of your mother.” That’s what Jesus is proving by this whole incident. And, parents, you weren’t made to be the parent of your children. You weren’t made to be an accountant or an architect. You weren’t created to be a musician or “fulfill your life as whatever it is that you want to be.” That’s not what you were designed to do. What you were designed to do is to be someone who brings glory to God—someone who lives for the honor and the exaltation of God. And until you find that, you’ll never find what life was really made to be for you—or anything else in your life. That order has to be created in your own thinking and reaffirmed almost daily.

And if you think, “Well, I’m a Christian; I’ve already got that straight,” don’t misunderstand the temptation or underestimate the power of idolatry in all of our lives. The last line in 1 John—1 John 5—at the very end of that chapter, he says, “Little children”—after all this explanation about Christians and how they’re supposed to live—he says, “guard yourselves from idols.” Everything that wants to be that supreme thing in your life—you need to recognize it can’t be. It has to be God—the ultimate, supreme agenda of your life.

When Jesus said that, by the way, here’s how he put it: “You can’t serve two masters. You’ll love the one and hate the other”—you say you want to love them both—“and you’ll either hold to the one and despise the other.” You cannot serve—and, as an example because the context was money—you cannot serve both God and money. That’s how that passage ends there in Matthew 6. Here’s the deal, though: you need to realize most of you say, “Well, I want God to be a priority; I just think I can have two ultimate priorities.” The Bible says those will eventually get in conflict.

Jesus wanted to be a dutiful, faithful, loving son. He wanted to respect his mother. But that was not his supreme agenda in life. See, his supreme agenda in life was God—his Father’s business. And those, at times, are going to be in conflict—to where it’ll look like you’re despising the one and holding to the other; loving the one and discarding the other. And that’s what Mary was feeling. Right? Here’s how I like to put it: if you just think back to what her response was there in verse 48, she was very upset that she was not the preeminent agenda of Jesus’s life: “You need to be caring about my feelings. You’ve distressed me.” I put it this way—number two: you and I, we need to realize people won’t like being second. And the people in your life are not going to care for the fact that you don’t have their needs before God’s needs. And that concern is going to surface in one situation or another—in your life at work, in your friendships, in your family—you’re going to see that problem. And that is the conflict that’s going to be felt when people say, “Well, wait a minute. If you really loved me—if you really want what’s best for our family—if you really cared about this business and the bottom line—you wouldn’t be doing all that.”

See, the world wants you to be about its agenda. And at some point, you’re going to have the experience there (as verse 48 says) where someone’s going to say, “Why are you treating us like this?”

And let’s think of work for a second—just to use that Matthew 6 passage: “You can’t serve both God and money.” Let’s just pick the typical business in Orange County. They’re all about—because, I mean, it all makes sense—making money. Right? That’s what the business is there for. You’re going to get hired in that business and you’re going to serve in that company or whatever it is. And what they’re going to expect is that you buy the same supreme objective that they buy—and that is: “We’re in this to make money; we’re in this for the bottom line.” You’re going to step in as a Christian and, after hearing a sermon like this, I hope, reaffirm your ultimate authority, your ultimate love, your ultimate agenda—and that is to glorify God. So you’re going to be in a situation where their objective is really going to be something different than your objective. And at some point, there’s going to be a conflict there. You cannot serve them both. Right? You have to serve God.

Now, that doesn’t mean you won’t be a good employee. And it doesn’t even mean that, occasionally, maybe they laud you for being a great Christian worker with a great Christian work ethic—they may not say that, but they appreciate your diligence at work. But I doubt you’re ever going to be the end-all for that company—the ultimate employee of the year—because in reality the conflict is all too frequent. If you worship at the altar of loving money and serving money, eventually you’ll see: people say, “There are things that God asks of Christians we can’t do in our love for money.” And therefore, we just can’t fit in here as well as other people can. And people are going to chide you for that. They’re going to expect you to be about them and their agenda.

And it’s no different than a family—think that one through. Now, you’re not a 12-year-old, answering to your parents, but you are a parent. And, in a sense, we kind of answer to the expectation of our children in a lot of ways. Now here’s the deal: there is no way that you can make God the preeminent agenda of your life—like Joshua 24 says, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” You cannot live that way and have your family really feel like they’re number one in everything that you do. They’ll feel number two, and at some point there’s going to be a conflict—or at least disappointment. There’s going to be.

Now, remember that Jesus didn’t disobey his parents in this text, but he did disappoint them. And there are times when, if you say, “We’re living for the Lord and his agenda,” you’re going to call your family to do some things, and they’re going to say, “But we want to do these things. And what’s the deal here? This isn’t right. Other families do that, and you’re dragging us to this thing, or you’re making us do that thing. Or you’re employing this discipline—we don’t want to do that.” You need to realize there’s going to be disappointment.

Even when Jesus was an adult—as an adult, as a part of his extended family—he had issues. Let me just show you one example. Luke 8—he’s there later teaching, and if we study this (hopefully we’ll get to this), and we look at the parallel passages in Matthew and Mark, you’ll find there’s more of a dramatic scene in the tension being built: he’s offending the religious leaders, talking about things that are a bit esoteric in theology like demon possession and angels, and he’s digging a deeper and deeper hole the more that he preaches. And I say that—not before God he wasn’t digging a hole—but before people. People were starting to say, “This guy’s crazy,” and he was offending the religious leaders. His family steps up and says, “Listen, you need to stop this.” I mean, this is the scene if you drop down in this text in Luke 8:19: the brothers of Christ and his mother show up—we’re assuming now somehow Joseph’s out of the picture; he’s probably died; at least that’s the presumption—he never shows up again after the 12-year-old scene that we have. “His mother and his brothers came to him, and they couldn’t reach him because of the crowd.” And if you get this all in context (and I’ll prove this to you when we get there), they’re basically saying, “Ratchet it back, Christ. Time to wrap this sermon up. This one—not that good.” Right? “I mean, they already think you’re crazy. You’re dragging our family name through the mud here.” There was that feeling there of “Ratchet it back.”

“They come to get him,” to stop him. And in verse 20, word gets to him: “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, desiring to see you.” Okay—look what he says. Here’s a little bit of the priorities in tension. Does he want to be a good extended family member? Isn’t it—oh, absolutely. But he answers them in a very terse way: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.” Slap, slap. Wow—that hurt.

In the margin it’d be good to write down Luke 14—or in your notes, Luke 14:26–33. And we quote that a lot. I don’t mean to turn you back there again, but in your mind just remember this: Jesus says that sometimes because of your supreme priority to live for God and his agenda, the people that you love—right, you’re supposed to love your wife; you’re supposed to love your kids; you’re supposed to love your parents—they’re going to feel as though you hate them. Mary doesn’t say that here, but you can almost feel it: “Son, why have you treated us so? What’s wrong? Do you hate us?” Right? There’s the feeling. And what Jesus is preparing us for in Luke 14, as we’ll see, is this: if you’re not willing to have that experience, you can’t be my disciple. You can’t. You can’t make me what I’m called to be in your life if you still want to please everybody. Because really, when it comes down to it, there will be those times in your life that if you live for me, they’re going to feel like they’re discarded. They may not say, “You hate me,” but they’re going to have experiences like this: “Why are you treating us like this?” Are you ready for that? Are you at least willing to disappoint a few people in your life because Christ is the preeminent authority and passion and love of your heart? You better be ready to live that way—because it’s going to happen, even in your marriage—even in your marriage.

Quickly turn to this one, if you don’t mind: 1 Corinthians 7. First Corinthians 7—all the wedding poems notwithstanding—okay? Let me say this emphatically, as heretical as this may sound if you’ve been a part of cultural Christianity—and biblical Christianity—Christian marriage is not (right—not because we can’t achieve it; it’s just not, by definition) some Top-40 pop romance romantic song. It’s just not. I mean, turn on music and listen. You know, the closest thing to heaven as they get is romantic love. And so all these songs about—you… I don’t know; I can’t even—I don’t know them. But I’ve heard enough of it that it’s just—all the world disappears; it’s about, you know… I don’t know. Now, Christians fall into the error of speaking like that’s what it’s all about. Christian marriage is not all about that. Right? It is not about “the world shuts out and it’s all about you.” It’s not. Let me blow your mind with these verses here. Drop into the middle of this passage—1 Corinthians 7. Look at verse 29. Let’s start there.

“This is what I mean, brothers: the appointed time has grown very short. From now on let those who have wives live as though they had none.” Now, if you’re having a struggling marriage, don’t say “Amen” or anything—“Told you so! Praise the Lord! That’s how I want to live anyway.” No. Not what this means. Keep reading. This is what it means: it means a lot of what Jesus said about not storing up treasure on earth but treasure in heaven—seeing there are higher priorities. We’re living for bigger things than just these things. Keep reading: verse 29—“Let those who have wives live as though they had none.” Verse 30—“and those who mourn as though they were not mourning”—something torques you and makes you sad—yeah, okay, if you’re mourning; but not like mourning-mourning. Why? “Those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing”—anything that might make you happy down here? Well, it’s not like that—you know? Not like that rejoicing. “Those who buy as if they had no goods”—it’s like you don’t really own it. You got it—whatever. Doesn’t really matter that much. Verse 31—“and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it.” But you’ve got contracts; you’ve got clients; you’ve got all these things going on. “Yeah, okay—but whatever. For the present form of this world is passing away. And I want you to be free from anxieties.”

Think that through now. Everything down here that seems like such an important supreme priority—as John put it in 1 John 2—is passing away. Therefore I hold it all loosely, including my marriage. Think about that. That didn’t even sound right. Right? What do you mean? It just means this: that when it comes to Christian marriage, the whole point of my marriage is not that all of my life is about worship at the altar of my spouse. No. It’s not about living for my spouse. That may make a good Top-40 song, but it’s not biblical Christianity; it’s not Christian marriage. See, my ultimate supreme priority is God; my marriage is just—on average—just another avenue through which I glorify God.

Drop down to verse 33 (well, and verse 32 as well; read the rest): “The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord—how to please the Lord. The married man” (verse 33) “is anxious about worldly things—how to please his wife.” Now, you should please your wife—and that’s biblical: you should love your wife. But the reality is his interests are divided. That’s what happens. Now, he says, “I’m not telling you you shouldn’t get married.” Look at verse 35: “I’m saying this to you for your own benefit—not to lay any restraint on you” (it’s not like you can’t get married; you shouldn’t get married; you shouldn’t love your wife)—“but to promote good order and to secure your” (what?) “undivided devotion to the Lord.” Unrivaled. No idols. Your wife cannot be your idol. Your husband cannot be your idol. Your children cannot be your idols.

We live in a world where we fulfill our legitimate obligations, and we live in loyalty and faithfulness and love to those things that we are responsible to love and live for—I get all that—just like Jesus had to obey his mother. But all the while there’s something much more important and supreme that overshadows that. We hold those things loosely, in a sense. Right? Does that mean we’re bad husbands, bad employees? Doesn’t mean that at all—as we’ll see in a second. But it just means it’s not the supreme thing in our lives. And in many cases, it will disappoint people.

Verse 51—they didn’t understand it (verse 50). Verse 51—then here is the interesting thing: Jesus, after stating that Mom should know “My ultimate priority is my Father, and I’d be about my Father’s work in the complex of the temple courts where the Father’s knowledge is kicked around all the time,” he says in verse 51, “Okay, let me get my backpack—let’s go.” He went down with them and came to Nazareth. He’s leaving the libraries and the scroll rooms of downtown Jerusalem to head back to Hicksville, right—Nazareth. And he does it willingly and obediently—here’s even a big word—submissively. He was submissive to them.

Now, interesting little vindication here: his mother comes distressed—mad about the fact that he didn’t come with them. “You’ve disappointed me.” He says, “I should be about my Father’s work.” He then says, “Great, Mom—let’s go.” And she treasures it all up in her heart. Look at that. The one that Jesus disappointed ends up, in a weird kind of way, affirming the reality that Jesus is right and his priorities are right. And she ends up kind of being a fan in all of this. You get that?

Verse 52: Jesus increased—and I understand this is an overarching phrase that can go over a lot of his childhood—but about this specific phrase at the end of verse 52, it certainly applies to what we’ve just seen—this particular scene: “Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with two parties: God and man.” Jesus pleased God and people—in that order. And when they were conflicted, he occasionally disappointed the number-two-chair person—whoever it was (in this case, his mom and dad). But he pleased them both. And you can see in this context he actually pulled it off. Well, not at first—he disappointed his parents. But then he did what he should do, and that is, as a submissive 12-year-old, he went back to Nazareth—at some sacrifice to himself—not being disobedient to God (because God didn’t say he had to be raised in the temple), but he did it with some sacrifice and doing it out of deference to a legitimate obligation to be a faithful and obedient son.

Number three—let’s put it this way: when possible (and Jesus proves here that it is, at least in this case), please them both. Who’s “them”? God—and those who are a second priority: your wife, your kids, your parents, your boss, your company, your shareholders. Please both when it’s possible.

Now, are there situations when it’s not possible? Yes—obviously. And while I don’t have time to get into all the rules of that, if you want to hear that—at least the paradigm—and it applies in this case as well as it did in the case of government in Romans 13, you can look at that last sermon on the back in the box there. I always give you some sermons that overlap the sermon I’m preaching now—the one I preached there in 2011—whatever the number is. It says something about “Taxes, Voting, and Civil Disobedience”—something like that. But it does say “civil disobedience,” doesn’t it? Okay—that one. That gives you the paradigm of the biblical time when I say, “I can’t please them both; I’ve got to please God.”

Some people make a habit—you know, make a hobby—out of trying to displease people. You need to please them both whenever you can. Occasionally there will be authorities or expectations placed upon you at work, or in your family, or in society, or in government where you cannot please them—and you must displease them. Examples that I used in that sermon: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—Nebuchadnezzar says, “Bow down and worship this idol.” What do they say? “No.” Respectfully, they said no, and they suffered the consequences by being thrown into the fiery furnace. Later, many years later, Daniel’s there—told by the Persian kings, “You cannot pray to anybody but the king—the monarch.” Daniel opens up the windows, goes about his business, continues to pray to the God of Israel. He gets thrown into the lions’ den. Acts 4 and 5—they’re told, “You can’t do any more evangelism—not here; not this time. You cannot do any more evangelism. Stop preaching in the name of Christ.” And they looked at the leaders of the Sanhedrin and said, “Hey, figure this out for yourself. Is it right that we obey people instead of God? I’m sorry—we’re going to have to disappoint you and not do it.”

There are times you cannot please them both. And when you can’t please them both, you can’t please them both—and I’m sorry. You have to displease the expectations, the obligations, the people in your life. But some people will take a message like this and they will feel that they’ve got license to displease people. “Great! I don’t have to be the employee of the month. I can worry about God’s agenda at work and never have to worry about what my boss wants.” Not true—obviously. As a matter of fact, if you’re not employee of the month at least every now and then—just because you are committed to doing your job faithfully, because you answer to a higher authority—then maybe you’re not understanding this. In other words, there had better be times that Mary says, “What a great kid.” Why? Because he’s all about pleasing his mother? No—he wasn’t. He was all about pleasing God. But because he cared about God and his agenda, God’s agenda included being a good son. And therefore there ought to be times when his mom’s not distressed, frustrated, but she’s praising him and happy and satisfied and impressed by her son’s behavior.

Two quick passages on this and we’ll be done. Colossians 3. What I’m saying is this: there are going to be times when, if you are risky enough to put God and his agenda first—and not money, not everything else at work; let’s just use work in this passage—that you’re aiming at something higher, and you’ll get the second concern thrown in for free. If you really make God and his agenda your priority, there will be times—most of the time, I would say nine times out of ten—that the people in that sphere of responsibility, or that obligation, or whatever it is—they’re going to be happy with what you do, because of principles like this. Look at verse 22—Colossians 3:22: “Bondservants” (douloi—slaves; which, by the way, don’t think American slavery—Greco-Roman world, first-century: slavery was an intense employment relationship. Your doctors and lawyers and professors were bond-slaves. It didn’t have anything necessarily to do with oppression. It could, but—read “employees” here, depending on the situation; that’s what it was four times out of five.) “Bondservants, obey in everything those who are your earthly masters.” Now, you just told me, Mike, there are times you can’t. I get that—put an asterisk here and draw a line to verse 25. Clearly that’s underscoring everything that is said here regarding obeying earthly authorities. Verse 25 says, “The wrongdoer will be paid back for the wrong he has done, and there is no partiality.” What does that mean? That’s a threat. Don’t do the wrong thing. “But you just told me to obey my master in everything.” Clearly the footnote is, of course, not things that would be wrong—not wrongdoing. And we’ve just addressed that; that’s the one-out-of-ten situation.

But when it comes to your masters, I’m telling you, if you love God, do what they say—“not by way of eye-service” (as a matter of fact, that’s how most people function in their jobs), “but not as people-pleasers, but with sincerity of heart,” you serve them “fearing the Lord.” You’ve got a higher authority that you answer to. “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward.” “You are serving the Lord Christ.” There’s the picture of me seeing my job—or my responsibility in my family—though I’m not enshrining my family, and I’m not enshrining my boss or my job or my industry or my career as the god of my life. I’ve got a higher God than that. And because I have a higher God than that, if I’m doing honest work, then God’s going to call me to work really hard and do everything I’m told there. And in my family—same thing. Fulfill the obligations. Do what you’re called to do. Now, I can’t do everything—and I’m going to disappoint sometimes—because my higher authority isn’t going to allow me to do everything that people want to do as they bow to the altar of something else—fun or money or whatever. But most of the time, they are going to be pleased because they’re going to find me working harder, not less hard; more sincerely, not less sincerely, because I live for God.

Now, let me throw one thing in there that has to be addressed. I said two passages—here’s the second one: 1 Timothy 6. In 1 Timothy 6, I have to address this because here’s the problem that’ll happen. The problem that happens is when I start to think—in a situation where the expectation is given by a Christian—that I then, because they understand my ultimate authority, because they share the Lordship of Christ in their own heart, that I can pull the bar down a little bit. Put it this way: my wife understands that she is not the center of my life. Why? Because, well, she’s seen it and she’s experienced it, and I know she’s a Christian too; and the Lord of her life is God, and she lives ultimately for God, and so do I. Therefore, when I think about my responsibilities as a husband or as a father, I can look across at my wife and say, “She shares the same commitment I do; therefore she understands.” Okay, and if she understands—now I recognize this—it almost gives me even more license to say, “Well then clearly I can neglect my responsibilities here. Clearly I can lower the bar here. You’ll understand: if I’m all about God’s agenda and I really don’t—as Jesus did here—do anything to go out of my way, to sacrifice to do something to meet my obligations in my family, when I’m in a situation where there are Christians involved and I think, ‘Well, you should know that I’m living for God,’ we think that gives me the ability to lower the bar.”

In a workplace, if ever you’re in a workplace and you have a genuine Christian as a boss, or you work for a Christian organization or something, it happens all the time. People say, “Well, because we’re all Christians, see, then we all understand that we’re really not in it for the money; we’re not all about the shareholders. We can recognize—we can cut this; we don’t have to be quite so, you know, intense about the work.” Wrong.

Paul says this—verse 1, 1 Timothy 6:1: “Let all who are under a yoke as bondservants regard their own masters as worthy of all honor”—well, we saw that in Colossians 3, Paul; you said that, I get that. Why? “So that the name of God and the teaching may not be reviled.” Why do that? Because the name of God and the teaching of Christ—we don’t want it to be reviled. “Those who have believing masters must not be disrespectful on the ground that they are brothers; rather they must serve all the better, since those who benefit by their good service are believers and beloved.” “Teach and urge these things.”

Now think about it: Jesus could have looked at Mary and said, “Hey, wait a minute—you were the one that, when Gabriel showed up and said I was coming, you said, ‘Hey, I’m just the bondservant of the Lord; let it be done to me…’ I know you share the passion I share, and that is: you’re all about the Lord. So you know what, Mary—you understand, right, Mom? I’ll catch up with you in Denver. I’ve got more time on the Temple Mount here; I’ve got to talk through the theology with these guys, because you know what, Mary—you understand.” He didn’t do that. No—matter of fact, because his mother is one who shares devotion to God—because his mother also understands the Lordship of God in her life at that particular point in history—he should say, “I really want, in this case, because you share a love for the Lord that I share, to serve you and please you all the more.” Now, as long as I can please God by leaving Jerusalem right now—which of course he could; there was no command that he live there or stay there—right? “I’m going to do what I can to submit myself to you and go, and I’m going to do the right thing here,” which is: please God, but also please you when it’s possible.

We need to live that way. You’ve got a Christian boss; you work in a Christian organization—please don’t do what most people do when they get in those situations and think, “Well, great—everybody understands. We can chillax a little bit more here; we can just—more worship songs; longer breaks; we’ll evangelize all day long; we don’t have to stop.” Work even harder, because the beneficiaries that end up being profited by your work or your service are brothers and beloved by Christ and God.

We live in two separate worlds. As Paul said, we’re citizens of heaven, but we live here. We have a lot of obligations. You’re a friend; you’re a soccer coach; you’re a wife; you’re a mom; you’re a husband; you’re a worker; you’re an employee—whatever you do. You’ve got a lot of people expecting things from you. Learn a lesson from the perfect 12-year-old: keep first things first. Please don’t ever confuse that. Grow in favor with God—and that comes first. But also try to do your best that, whenever possible, to please them both. Grow in favor with people by serving God so well that your commitment to serving God with excellence spills over into every relationship you have.

Oh, and by the way: know there are limits to that. There are some times when you just won’t be able to please everybody. And because you love God, there are things at work you can’t do; there are things in your family you can’t prioritize; there are things in this world and for your extracurricular that you can’t do. Just be willing to disappoint some people along the way.

You take that away from this text, also recognizing what it’s there for—to affirm one last time in the introduction to Luke that this is all about affirming that Jesus is the Christ—we will have gotten our money’s worth out of this text.

So would you stand with me as we dismiss—dismiss you with a word of prayer?

Pray with me, please: God, we’re grateful—for those of us that are to be redeemed, adopted children of the King, citizens of heaven, servants in your economy. But at the same time, as we walk out with that identity, we also realize we’ve got a lot of other hats that we wear here in this world. Help us never to try to hold them equally in our hearts—we can’t serve two masters; we can’t be sold out to two different identities. Our identity is that we’re Christians first.

But God, as we live in this world as employees and employers and as husbands and children and parents and all the rest, God, I pray that we would recognize your concern: that we try to hold these priorities in tension—these legitimate and important obligations that we have we need to fulfill with excellence—and be never bringing the reputation of God into disrepute because we’re lazy or we’re not responsible or we’re not faithful. But God, sometimes we know there’s a fork in the road, and there are people that don’t share the commitment that we have to you, and they’re going to ask us to do things and expect us to be people that we just can’t be. But our minds rush back to this text and understand that there will be times we disappoint people in our lives. Let us be okay with that. As you said in Luke 14, let us be willing to count the cost—that that’s going to be a part of it.

But in the meantime, God, I know that’s the exception and not the rule. May this church—because we love you—be seen as people that are keeping our responsibilities in every area of our lives done as well as they can possibly be done. God, we know that you love that—you modeled it for us. Thanks for providing us this great example, at the just amazing age of 12, that you provided for us—something so helpful. Let it linger in our hearts for many days and many weeks—even years to come—because we took time to study this text today. In Jesus’ name, amen.