All Are Invited

Rev. Bobby Musengwa

Transitional General Presbyter

We are still on Tuesday of Holy Week. Jesus has just ridden into Jerusalem. He has turned over tables in the temple.

Now the chief priests and elders confront him: "By what authority are you doing these things?" Jesus doesn't give them a straight answer.

He tells three stories in a row, and they all land on the same people.

In the first, two sons are asked to work in the vineyard. One says yes and doesn't go. The other says no and then goes.

In the second, tenants reject the owner's servants and finally kill his son. Matthew tells us the leaders knew exactly who Jesus was talking about.

Then comes the wedding banquet.

A king throws a feast for his son. The invited guests blow him off. One goes to his farm, another to his business, and some of them turn violent.

So the king sends his servants out again, this time to the main streets, with simple instructions: invite everyone you find.

Matthew says they gathered "both good and bad," and the hall filled up.

Y'all means all. Nobody earned a seat. Nobody passed a test at the door.

Same theme as the first two stories: an invitation, a refusal, and a surprising crowd of others coming in.

The people who assumed the party was theirs get left behind.

Then Matthew gets uncomfortable. Well, I get uncomfortable with the next

part.

The king walks the room and spots a man without wedding clothes.

"Friend," he says, "how did you get in here?" The man has nothing to say. He is bound and thrown out.

Honestly, that feels unfair to me.

I’ve been one without the proper uniform in school and got corporal

punishment. It hurt.

I didn’t think it was my fault for being too poor to afford a uniform. I digress.

These guests were pulled off the street with no warning. Who carries a wedding outfit around just in case?

Many scholars think Matthew stitched two separate stories together here, and the seam shows.

But look at what Matthew points to. It isn't the clothes. It's the silence.

And remember the first story. This man is the son who said yes and did nothing.

He accepted the invitation and then refused to be changed by it. He wanted the feast without the transformation.

Here is the question that won't leave me alone this week: what if that man is us?

Not the people who turned the king down, and not the folks far outside the

church. Us.

The ones who showed up, sat in the pew, served on the Session, Deacons, and other committees, and quietly assumed that being invited was the same as being changed.

Sometimes friends or siblings quarrel. Imagine that?

Neither is happy about it, and they both keep saying, at least in their hearts,"Someday we will work it out."

Then one dies suddenly. Someday never comes.

Those left behind are heartbroken and torn up, and they are asking themselves why they left for tomorrow what they could have done today.

Here is what we all know.

Jesus has given us the ministry of reconciliation.

Reconciliation is a serious ministry. We can definitely do better at it.

But we are so good at dodging it.

In congregations, it can look like this: someone gets upset about a decision, and in that moment, it feels enormous.

They huff and puff and leave, looking for greener pastures, a place full of kindred spirits who will nod along.

Meanwhile, old and cherished relationships are left in tatters.

One short-sighted decision makes us forget who we are and what we've been asked to do.

When we accept Christ's invitation, the whole of us is on the table.Paul says it in Romans 12:2: "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind." I would add, by the renewing of your hearts.

So what does that transformation look like?

Theologian Tom Long helps here. He reads the wedding garment alongside the clothing language that runs throughout the New Testament.

We are told to "put on" Christ (Galatians 3:27).

We are told to put on the new self (Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:10).

And we are told to clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience (Colossians 3:12).

That fits Matthew's steady insistence that hearing Jesus should become visible in life.

But notice the order, because it matters. The guests from the street are invited before they prove anything.

The garment is not the price of admission. It is the life that grows out of receiving an astonishing invitation.

So here is my invitation this week.

Think of one person you are at odds with. Pick up the phone. Send the text. Send the note. Knock on the door, if you can.

Don't wait for a better moment, because it may not come.

I have experienced a friend die without reconciliation. I could have reached out, but did not. It hurts. All of us can do better.

In Christ, we are a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Grace is free, and it is never idle. It asks us to invite all, put something on, and joyfully party with Christ.

Can we do that? Yes, we can do that.

Just remember, it’s the Lord’s banquet, not yours, not mine, nor any big shot pastors, high potentates, or religious leaders.

It is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous to behold.

When Christ invites all creation to the banquet feast, all are truly invited.

We come without fear or favor.

Grace and peace to you,

Rev. Bobby Musengwa

Transitional General Presbyter

Mission Presbytery