Luke 12.35-40

READINESS

PARABLES OF BRIDEGROOM AND THIEF

(Luke 12.35-40)

In April 1979, I received a letter from the Dean of Exeter Cathedral inviting me to preach at Matins in July, on the occasion of Sea Sunday.

In the five and a half years that l had worked in Plymouth, I cannot recall any clergyman from that city ever being invited to preach at the Cathedral. So I felt very honoured.

And since I had already turned down two similar invitations, and was about to move to Fremantle, Australia, I thought I ought to accept it this time.

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So I started to get ready for the great occasion.

Firstly, I prepared the text of the sermon, which like most of my sermons, went through four or five drafts before I was happy with it. Fortunately, I was able to draw upon my previous three years’ experience as Chaplain of the Mersey Mission to Seamen in Liverpool.

I ensured that it was clearly typed, with double spacing, since, even in those days, I could not always read my own handwriting!

Secondly, I turned my attention to my robes for the occasion. My late wife washed and ironed my white surplice to ensure that it was in pristine condition. She also made sure that my white preaching bands were crisply starched.

Thirdly, I tried to ensure that my car would not let me down by having it serviced.

Finally, I arranged for a locum priest to cover my duties in the parish that Sunday morning.

So the great day arrived on the second Sunday in July. I drove the 40 miles to Exeter in record time and arrived with 30 minutes to spare.

I parked the car in the Deanery driveway. Got out of it. Opened the back door and reached in to pick up my case, containing my robes and sermon.

And guess what? It was not there! I had assumed Mary (my wife) had put it in the car, and she assumed I had put it in the car.

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It is quite amazing how much time we are often willing to spend preparing for an event in the future, whether it be a holiday, a job interview or just meeting an important person.

We are quite happy to spend hours planning an itinerary, or typing up a CV, or finding out about a person we are about to meet.

Yet, are we willing to spend a similar amount of time in preparing to meet God, who is surely much more important than any future holiday, a new job, or someone we are about to meet?

I think not!

And Jesus thought likewise.

Hence, he told his disciples the two parables in Luke 12.35-40.

The first concerned the need to be prepared to greet one's absent Master, no matter what time of the day or the night he may return. Jesus urged his hearers to 'be dressed for action and have your lamps lit. Be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks’.

The second parable concerns being prepared for one's home to be burgled. As Jesus points out: ‘If the owner of the house had known what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into’.

And so Jesus concludes these two parables with the warning, ‘You must also be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour’.

In other words, you and I should live our lives in a constant state of readiness, and not put off to tomorrow that which should be done today.

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I would suggest that the reason why we do not live our lives in a constant state of readiness is that we tend to think that the coming of the 'Son of Man' lies in the far distant future. We therefore assume that we have plenty of time to get ready to meet him face to face.

After all, the biblical expectation of life is three score years and ten. With the advances in health care and improved standard of living, it is not unreasonable to expect to live for a further ten or fifteen years.

So we feel we are able to put off worrying about when the ‘Master' or 'burglar' will arrive. We have plenty of time to get ready for the arrival of the 'Son of Man'.

But that, my friends, is where you and I make our mistake. It is also where the early disciples of Jesus made their mistake, which is why Jesus told them these two parables.

By virtue of the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, Jesus is already present in the world of today.

It is no good expecting to see a pale Galilean in long flowing robes because, more often than not, as St Matthew reminds us, he meets us in the person who is in need.

It is no good waiting until the end of time and then protesting, asking when did we see Jesus thirsty for a drink, or hungry for food, or a stranger looking for a welcome, or naked wanting clothing, or sick or in prison wanting a visitor?

It will be no good protesting for Jesus will say, 'just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.'

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l have recently been re-reading Richard Morris' biography of the great war time hero, Group Captain Leonard Cheshire, who devoted so much of his later life to caring for those in need, through the founding of the former, Leonard Cheshire Homes.

In one of his letters, quoted in the book, Cheshire writes: 'Christ goes about this world as a beggar, in disguise, stretching out His hand for alms. He comes in the guise of a bereaved child, a widow, one who is lonely or homeless or sick or unpopular. He is there in the consummate bore, the convicted thief or liar, the sensual or worldly, the frivolous modern pagan....ever asking for our love and gentleness and reverence, our courtesy and sympathy’.

Now there is a great danger, when seeking to serve Jesus in those in need, that we do it in a condescending manner. Cheshire therefore believed that our first response to any fellow human should be reverent humility, for 'it is Christ who I am meeting...All true love is founded in humility, and unless we look with humility on every man we meet, we shall not begin to love him.'

Cheshire, who became a Roman Catholic, endeavoured to live the latter part of his life in a constant state of readiness to meet the Risen Christ in those whom he met day by day, and especially those in physical or emotional need.

May we, from this day forward, seek to live our lives in a constant state of readiness, looking for the Risen Christ in each other, and may our prayer be the words of Philip Doddridge's hymn:.

"You servants of the Lord,

each for his coming wait,

observant of his heavenly word

and watchful at his gate." Amen

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lncidentally, the Dean of Exeter saved my embarrassment by finding some robes for me to wear. Alas, he did not find a sermon.

After the service, he said, "lf you preach as well as that without notes, you must be a very good preacher with notes.'

As I rose two inches above the ground in pride, he continued, "Oh, by the way, what did you say about Fremantle, I'm afraid I am rather hard in hearing and did not catch all you said".

Two months later, I was invited by the Bishop of Bunbury to preach in his cathedral in Western Australia. This time I made sure I had my robes and the text of my sermon. As I approached the pulpit, I found it already occupied by the Bishop. He had completely forgotten he had invited me to preach!