Introduction:  A couple of weeks ago I confessed to my small group that at times, the disciples I most admired were James and John. It was a confession because my admiration of these two comes, not from their willingness to join Peter and leave everything and follow Jesus (Lk. 5:1-11), but from their desire to call down fire from heaven to destroy some Samaritan sinners who had rejected Jesus (Lk. 9:51-55)! My confession was that sometimes I feel just like that. I get mad at those who reject Jesus, or ignore his church, or challenge a worldview that has the majesty and mission of our triune God at its center.

 

Fortunately, I do realize that Jesus is, and calls us to be, a friend of sinners, not a foe, and God and I are working on those times when the “foe” side rears its ugly head. One of the ways he does his work on me is through a passage like todays. While we’re certainly not treated to any of the conversation that took place between Levi (also known as Matthew) and Jesus, the one thing I think we can be sure of is that Levi did not leave everything and follow Jesus, and then throw a great big party in Jesus’ honor, because Jesus had gotten mad at him! What we see is that Jesus didn’t get mad; he offered friendship to those persons who were missing out on the purposes of God. So, the question for me, and maybe for you, too, is this: Can we love people who don’t know Jesus, instead of getting mad at them for not believing the right things, or not coming to church? Let’s look at this passage and consider how Jesus gives us both a loving and a natural way of leading people into the healing presence of our great and loving God.

 

I. Levi is Called by Jesus

A. Levi was a tax collector, which meant that he was a busy man who, to a point, was very successful. The booth at which he worked was not exactly like the ones we must pass through as we head north on I-93 or I-95, or the one that takes much patience to pass through as we head into Boston via the Tobin Bridge. Levi’s booth was more of a customs stop, located on a major travel route. Along this route, near Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee, large caravans passed carrying spices, cloth, silk, ivory, and other precious commodities. The Roman government, which controlled Palestine in the first century, saw tremendous opportunity to take advantage of this trade and imposed taxes on all goods that passed by. The job of tax collector was awarded to the highest bidder. The one who won the bid had to collect the tax, plus enough to cover his bid and make a profit as well. This left plenty of opportunity for the tax collector to charge as much as he could get away with; after he paid Rome, everything else was pure profit. So, Levi had a great position, power, and probably great wealth. However, since they came by much of this wealth dishonestly, and because the Roman soldiers turned a blind eye to their cheating ways as long as Rome got her share, it’s no wonder that as a group, tax collectors were despised, and considered to be the moral equivalent of pimps and informants.

 

B. Well, to this despised man Jesus came. For a time, he might have watched him work. Then, he invited Levi to leave his old way of life with the words: “Come, follow me.” And Levi got up, left everything, and followed Jesus. You may recall that we read this verse a few weeks ago, along with the passage about Jesus calling Peter, James and John (Lk. 5:1-11). There we saw how they had left everything as well. They did this, I suggested, because by calling them to follow him, Jesus was saying in essence, “I love you and I believe in you. I believe you can learn from me and become like me.” And he was saying this, remember, to men who had failed to “make the cut,” they had failed to impress a rabbi enough for him to take them on as his disciple and so they were forced to learn the family business. But here was Jesus, calling Peter, calling Levi, and telling them he believed in them. They left everything and followed Jesus, not because he got mad at them but because he communicated to them that he loved them.

 

II. Levi Leaves Everything

A. But let’s push this a bit further and think now about what it meant for them to leave “everything.” We’re inclined to think that these men left everything such that they simply began to follow Jesus with only the shirt on their back. However, three years later, after the crucifixion of Jesus, Peter and his associates seemed to be able to find their fishing gear again. And after Levi “leaves everything” to follow Jesus, he seems to still have enough left to throw Jesus a big party. So maybe we need to think about “leaving everything” a little bit differently from the physical stuff around us.

 

B. Maybe “leaving everything,” as I think we find it in this passage, is something that is parallel to repentance. Maybe leaving everything to follow Jesus is really a turning, a reorienting of life completely around God’s purposes and the mission of Jesus. It would be different for each of us. Each of us has idols, the things we look to for meaning and purpose and acceptance and protection in our lives. If Levi had been a man of great wealth and position and power, maybe leaving everything for him had to do with leaving these idols as a source of his security, acceptance, meaning, and satisfaction. Maybe he left them because he had discovered that he could really only find these things in a relationship with Jesus. Maybe he had begun to realize, as Jonathan Edwards put it, that God is the one and only affection that will truly satisfy his heart.

 

III. Jesus Follows Levi

            A. Perhaps that is why Levi throws Jesus a great big party, to which he invites all of his tax collector friends. “Come, I want you to meet a man who has filled my soul in a way that nothing and no one else ever has.” So try to imagine this scene, this great big party where Jesus was the guest of honor. As you think about it, let me make three observations, all which have to do with how we are to think about being friends, instead of foes, to those who are living outside of the purposes of God.

 

1. Jesus goes to the party, no questions asked. Here is Jesus calling Levi to follow him, but in the next moment, what we see is Jesus following Levi and going to a banquet with a fraternity full of sinners. Who, really, is following whom? Time and time again we see that Jesus consciously makes the effort to associate with those outside of his community. As we’ve said before, these folks, like many today, were not waking up on the Sabbath wondering which synagogue to bless with their presence. If the good news was to reach them, it had to be brought to them. Jesus didn’t, and neither can we, sit back and wait for people to come to us. The Pharisees were mad because they expected “sinners” to change before they were willing to become friends with them. Jesus knew that in order to bring about change, he would have to befriend them first. 

 

2. Jesus had to be willing to engage in the art of conversation, “small talk,” if you will. One social analyst, in studying the nature of this kind of banquet in the Greco-Roman world, observes what he calls the “friend-making character of the meal.” Shared meals in the ancient world meant shared lives. Thus, it became important to engage in talk around the table that nurtured friendship, not divisiveness. What do you suppose Jesus talked about as the meal was shared? I’m not entirely sure, but I’ll bet he didn’t turn to the guy next to him and ask, “If you were to die tonight, do you know where you’d be going?” That’s not a bad question, but it’s not a relationship builder either. Jim Henderson, a writer who has done a great deal of study on the nature of conversion, suggests that we change our minds about life, about the way in which we perceive reality, not simply because of correct information but because we trust our conversation partners (Evangelism without Additives, p. 53). Being able to simply engage in conversation with people, showing a genuine interest in them, especially people who are vastly different from us, is how relationships are built and how the seeds of change begin to be sown. Henderson goes so far as to offer that if we, as Christians, can show genuine interest in others, and leave the judgment behind, people might begin to believe that God actually likes them!

 

3. Jesus had to be ready to interact with people who lived opposite his worldview. So imagine one of the tax collectors coming up to Jesus and saying, “Jesus, check out my weekend. Me and my girl went up to the lake and spent Saturday night getting drunk. It was awesome; that woman is amazing!” Perhaps that has happened to you at a party or office function. Don’t, for a minute, think it couldn’t have happened to Jesus. How do you suppose Jesus replied? “Well, I must tell you that God doesn’t approve of drunkenness and pre-marital sex.” Of course, that’s true, but I highly doubt that’s how Jesus would have responded. More likely, he would have just said, “Wow!” or, “How interesting!” something, at least, that would’ve allowed the conversation to continue. When we step out to reach out, people will mess with our worldviews. When that happens, we can’t let our sin-o-meter trigger a judgmental or angry response. Instead, we need to be willing to listen and learn about who this person is who is sharing what they consider to be an important part of their life with us.

 

Jesus saw all of Levi’s brokenness and sin, and did not walk away. He sees all of our brokenness and sin, and did not walk away. So when we see the brokenness and sin of others, we can not walk away either.

 

Conclusion: Of course, it’s easier to walk away, isn’t it? It’s easier to call down fire than to become a friend. It’s easier to drop a bomb than to build a school. Thinking about this, I noticed, while reading The Salem News at the barbershop last week, that Greg Mortenson will be receiving an award called “The Salem Award for Human Rights and Social Justice,” at a ceremony at Salem High School in May. You might recognize his name from the book, Three Cups of Tea, which I finally got around to reading last month, and which I highly recommend. A mountain climber who was rescued by a small village in Pakistan after a failed attempt to scale K2, Mortenson responded by seeking to build a school for that village. Since that time (1993), Mortenson has become the head of a foundation that has built 131 schools – many to educate girls – in Pakistan and Afghanistan, in addition to undertaking numerous public works projects. Mortenson’s philosophy is that it’s more effective to be a friend than a foe; building schools to educate children in Pakistan and Afghanistan, seeking to decrease the poverty and ignorance, is a far more effective way to fight terrorism than dropping bombs.

 

While trying to be a friend isn’t always easy – Mortenson has been taken captive and targeted by the Taliban because of his work – he is also revered by many Muslims and has received one of Pakistan’s highest civil awards. His experience has become required reading for many U.S. military and diplomatic personnel, and he has been asked to speak to American soldiers on how to improve relations with local villagers in Afghanistan.  

 

So, when it comes to those who are living outside of the kingdom of God, are you friend or are you foe? It’s tempting to be a foe, and a whole lot less work, but as Jesus models for us, only by being a friend will we be able to help bring those outside of the kingdom within range of God’s healing presence.