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In the beginning: The A, B, C’s

It is always best to start at the beginning, with the very basic of concepts. So with the first post start with the A, B, C’s:

Accept that you are a sinner and living solely in the world. Sin separates you from God and keeps you from attaining everlasting life with Him in Heaven (Rom 3:10, Rom 3:23, Gal 5:19-21, Rom 6:23)
Believe in Jesus Christ as your one and only Savior from the sins of this world(John 3:16-17, 2Cor 5:21)
Confess your sins to Him and ask for forgiveness, allowing Him into your heart through the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit will begin to guide and direct you as you grow from a “newborn” to adult in Christ. Studying the Word, praying and accepting mentorship from an “adult” believer will grow your relationship with Him. .(Rom 10:10, Rom 10:13, Acts 17:30-31).
Discipleship is key to growth into an adult believer. We are called to lead others to Christ and disciple them in them walk with Christ, ( 1Peter 3:15, Matt 10:32-33, 2Tim 2:1-4)
Evangelize in your family, your neighborhood, your community and beyond (Mrk 16:15, Matt 28:19-20, 2Tim 2:15)

Simplistic….maybe, but take the time to look up the referenced verses, digest them, understand them. These few verse will allow you to make a huge leap in walk with Christ. If you have not yet accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior, spend some time in the verses in “C”. I would love to answer any questions concerning these. Feel free to comment and ask questions.

Building a Life That Lasts: Reflections on Matthew 7:24–27

Continuing the study of Jesus Parables in Matthew.

Some teachings of Jesus feel like gentle invitations. Matthew 7:24–27 is not one of them. It lands with the weight of a warning and the clarity of a blueprint. It’s the closing image of the Sermon on the Mount, and Jesus chooses to end His most famous message with a story about construction, storms, and the difference between hearing and doing.

The parable is simple: two builders, two houses, two foundations. One builds on rock. The other builds on sand. Both houses look fine—until the storm comes. Only then does the truth about their foundations become visible.

The Storms Reveal What the Sunshine Hides

One of the most striking aspects of this parable is that both houses face the same storm. Jesus doesn’t say the wise builder avoids hardship. He doesn’t promise that obedience leads to an easier life. Instead, He assumes that storms—literal or metaphorical—are inevitable.

The rain falls. The rivers rise. The winds beat against the house.

Storms don’t create your foundation; they expose it. They reveal whether your life is anchored to something solid or resting on whatever feels convenient in the moment.

Hearing vs. Doing: The Real Divide

Jesus makes a sharp distinction between two kinds of people:

Those who hear His words and put them into practice
Those who hear His words and do nothing with them

Both groups hear. Both groups know what Jesus teaches. The difference is not information—it’s transformation.

This is uncomfortable, because it means spiritual maturity isn’t measured by how much we know, how many sermons we’ve heard, or how many verses we can quote. It’s measured by the degree to which Jesus’ teaching shapes our choices, our habits, our relationships, and our reactions.

Obedience, in this parable, is not about rule‑keeping. It’s about alignment. It’s about building your life in a way that matches the reality Jesus describes.

Sand Is Easy. Rock Is Work.

Let’s be honest: building on sand is appealing. It’s quick. It’s flexible. It doesn’t require digging, anchoring, or patience. Building on rock, on the other hand, takes effort. It demands intention. It often means choosing the harder path now to avoid collapse later.

Sand looks like:

Living by feelings instead of convictions
Choosing convenience over character
Chasing approval instead of truth
Building identity on success, image, or comfort

Rock looks like:

Forgiving when it’s difficult
Loving enemies
Practicing integrity when no one is watching
Trusting God when circumstances shake
Living out Jesus’ teachings even when they’re countercultural

Jesus isn’t trying to make life harder. He’s trying to make life stable.

The Quiet Wisdom of Slow, Steady Building

One of the beautiful subtleties of this parable is that the wise builder doesn’t look impressive at first. There’s no applause for digging a deep foundation. No one posts pictures of rebar and bedrock. The early stages of a strong life are often invisible.

But when the storm hits, the hidden work becomes the saving grace.

This is a reminder that spiritual growth is often slow, unglamorous, and unnoticed. It’s formed in daily decisions, small acts of faithfulness, and quiet moments of surrender.

A Foundation That Holds

Ultimately, Jesus is offering more than advice—He’s offering Himself. He is the rock. His teaching is not just moral guidance; it’s an invitation to build your life on the One who doesn’t shift when everything else does.

The parable ends with a collapse “with a great crash,” not to frighten us, but to wake us up. Jesus wants us to build something that lasts—something that can withstand grief, disappointment, temptation, uncertainty, and every storm life brings.

And the good news is that it’s never too late to rebuild. Never too late to reinforce. Never too late to start anchoring your life to something solid.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett.

The Parable That Won’t Leave Us Alone: Reflections on Matthew 25:31–46

Continuing in the study of Jesus Parables in Matthew.

Some passages in Scripture whisper. Matthew 25:31–46 does not. It stands in the middle of Jesus’ teaching like a blazing fire, warming and warning at the same time. It’s one of those texts that refuses to stay on the page; it follows you into your day, into your choices, into the way you look at the people around you.

At its core, this parable paints a scene of final judgment. Jesus describes the Son of Man separating people as a shepherd separates sheep from goats. But the criteria for this separation are not theological trivia or grand spiritual achievements. They’re startlingly ordinary: feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and imprisoned. The shock comes when both groups—those praised and those condemned—are surprised. Neither realized that in serving (or ignoring) the vulnerable, they were encountering Christ Himself.

The Scandal of the Ordinary

One of the most striking elements of this parable is how unglamorous the actions are. Jesus doesn’t point to heroic feats or dramatic sacrifices. He points to the small, the mundane, the easily overlooked. It’s almost as if He’s saying: If you want to find Me, don’t look up—look around.

This flips our instincts. We often imagine spiritual greatness as something lofty or rare. But Jesus locates Himself in the hungry person at the bus stop, the refugee family trying to find their footing, the neighbor who’s quietly drowning in loneliness. The parable insists that holiness is not hidden in the clouds; it’s hidden in the needs of others.

The Surprise of Both Groups

Another powerful detail is that both the “sheep” and the “goats” are confused. The righteous say, “When did we see you hungry and feed you?” The others say, “When did we see you and not help?” The point is subtle but profound: neither group recognized the sacredness of the moment.

This suggests that compassion isn’t meant to be a performance. The people commended by Jesus weren’t keeping score. They weren’t trying to impress God. They were simply living out a posture of mercy that had become part of who they were. Their kindness flowed naturally, almost unconsciously.

A Mirror, Not a Checklist

It’s tempting to turn this parable into a checklist: feed, clothe, visit, welcome. But Jesus isn’t handing out a to‑do list. He’s holding up a mirror. The question isn’t “Have I done these six things this week?” but “What kind of person am I becoming?”

Do I instinctively move toward people in need, or away from them? Do I see interruptions as burdens, or as invitations? Do I treat compassion as optional, or as the heartbeat of my faith?

The parable invites us to examine not just our actions, but our orientation—our way of seeing the world.

Christ in Disguise

Perhaps the most beautiful and unsettling truth in this passage is that Christ identifies Himself with the least powerful, least impressive, least protected people in society. This isn’t metaphorical flourish. It’s a theological earthquake. Jesus is saying, in effect: If you want to love Me, love them. If you want to serve Me, serve them.

This means our spiritual life is inseparable from our social life. Our worship is incomplete if it doesn’t spill into compassion. Our love for God is hollow if it doesn’t take the shape of love for others.

A Call That Still Echoes

Matthew 25:31–46 is not comfortable reading, and it’s not meant to be. It’s meant to wake us up. It reminds us that faith is not proven by what we say we believe, but by how we respond to the people God places in our path.

The parable doesn’t ask us to save the world. It asks us to notice it. To respond to it. To recognize Christ in the faces we’re most likely to overlook.

And maybe that’s the real challenge: not to wait for a grand moment of heroism, but to embrace the quiet, daily opportunities to love well. Because according to Jesus, those moments are not small at all. They are encounters with Him.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett.

Investing What God Gives: A Look at the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30, KJV)

Continuing in Jesus Parables in Matthew.

The parable of the talents is one of Jesus’ most stirring calls to responsibility, courage, and faithful living. Found in Matthew 25:14–30, it sits between two other parables about readiness, forming a trilogy that urges believers to live with purpose while awaiting the Lord’s return. But this particular story shifts the focus from watchfulness to work—from waiting well to using well what God has entrusted.

Let’s explore its message with the beauty and clarity of the King James Version woven throughout.

The Master Entrusts His Servants

Jesus begins, “For the kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods” (Matthew 25:14).

Right away, the parable reframes everything we possess—skills, opportunities, resources, influence—as something entrusted to us, not owned by us. The master gives “to every man according to his several ability” (v. 15). No comparison. No favoritism. Just purposeful distribution.

This is a quiet but liberating truth: God never asks us to steward what we don’t have. He asks us to be faithful with what we do have.

Faithfulness Looks Like Action

The first two servants waste no time. Scripture says they “went and traded with the same, and made them other five talents” (v. 16) and “he also gained other two” (v. 17). Their increase flows from initiative, courage, and effort.

The third servant, however, buries his talent in the ground. His explanation? “I was afraid” (v. 25).

Fear is often the quiet enemy of faithfulness. It convinces us to play small, hide our gifts, or avoid risk. But in the parable, doing nothing is not neutral—it’s unfaithful.

The Joy of the Master

When the master returns, his response to the first two servants is identical and overflowing with warmth:

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant… enter thou into the joy of thy lord.” —Matthew 25:21, 23

Notice the commendation isn’t for brilliance, success, or perfection. It’s for faithfulness. The master celebrates their willingness to use what they were given.

And the reward? More responsibility and deeper joy. In God’s economy, faithfulness multiplies blessing.

The Warning in the Parable

The third servant’s outcome is sobering. He returns the unused talent with a defensive spirit, blaming the master rather than examining his own fear. The master calls him “wicked and slothful” (v. 26)—strong words that reveal how seriously God takes wasted potential.

The parable ends with a principle that feels both challenging and clarifying:

“For unto every one that hath shall be given… but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.” —Matthew 25:29

Unused gifts shrink. Exercised gifts grow.

What This Means for Us Today

This parable isn’t about financial investment—it’s about spiritual stewardship. It invites us to ask:

What has God placed in my hands?
Am I using it, or burying it?
What fears keep me from stepping forward?
How can I invest my time, abilities, and opportunities for God’s purposes?

The story pushes us toward a life of intentionality. Not frantic striving, but faithful engagement. Not comparison, but courage. Not fear, but trust.

Final Reflection

The parable of the talents reminds us that God delights in our growth. He entrusts us with gifts not to burden us, but to invite us into His joy. Every act of faithfulness—large or small—echoes the master’s words:

“Well done… enter thou into the joy of thy lord.”

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett

Staying Ready: A Fresh Look at the Parable of the Ten Virgins (Matthew 25:1–13)

Continuing our study in Jesus Parables in Matthew.

Few of Jesus’ stories are as quietly arresting as the parable of the ten virgins. It’s short, vivid, and deceptively simple. Yet beneath its surface lies a message that still unsettles, inspires, and challenges anyone who reads it.

Matthew 25:1–13 tells of ten young women waiting for a bridegroom. Five are wise and bring extra oil for their lamps; five are foolish and bring none. When the bridegroom is delayed, all ten fall asleep. At midnight the call rings out—the groom has arrived. The wise trim their lamps and go in with him to the wedding feast. The foolish run off to buy oil, and by the time they return, the door is shut. The story ends with Jesus’ sober instruction: “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”

Let’s explore what this parable offers to a modern reader.

1. Preparation Isn’t Glamorous, but It’s Everything

The only difference between the wise and foolish virgins is preparation. They all had lamps. They all expected the groom. They all grew tired. They all fell asleep. The dividing line wasn’t enthusiasm or sincerity—it was readiness.

Preparation rarely feels exciting. It’s the quiet work no one sees: building character, nurturing faith, practicing patience, tending to spiritual disciplines. The parable suggests that the most important moments in life are shaped long before they arrive.

2. Delay Reveals What Desire Conceals

The bridegroom is delayed, and that delay exposes the truth. Waiting has a way of doing that. It tests motives, endurance, and depth. Anyone can be faithful for a moment; the question is whether we can remain faithful when the timeline stretches beyond our expectations.

In a world obsessed with immediacy, this parable pushes back. It reminds us that spiritual maturity grows in the long, slow spaces where nothing seems to be happening.

3. Some Things Can’t Be Borrowed

When the foolish virgins ask the wise for oil, the wise refuse—not out of selfishness, but because some things simply can’t be transferred. You can borrow a book, a tool, or a cup of sugar. But you can’t borrow someone else’s integrity, devotion, or relationship with God.

The parable invites each of us to consider what “oil” represents in our own lives. What are the non-negotiables we must cultivate ourselves?

4. The Midnight Cry Comes for Everyone

The moment of awakening comes suddenly. In the story, it’s literal: a shout in the night. In life, it might be a crisis, an opportunity, a calling, or a turning point. The parable isn’t meant to frighten but to awaken. It’s a reminder that life is full of unexpected moments where preparation meets reality.

The wise are ready not because they predicted the moment, but because they lived in a state of readiness.

5. Watchfulness Is a Posture, Not Paranoia

Jesus ends with a call to “keep watch.” This isn’t about living anxiously or obsessively scanning the horizon. It’s about cultivating a steady, attentive heart—one that stays aligned with what matters most.

Watchfulness is less about looking outward for signs and more about looking inward for faithfulness.

Final Thoughts

The parable of the ten virgins is ultimately a story about readiness—not the frantic kind, but the rooted kind. It’s an invitation to live with intention, to nurture what sustains us, and to stay awake to the presence and purposes of God in our everyday lives.

If anything, this parable whispers a gentle but persistent truth: the time to prepare is now, not later. Not out of fear, but out of love for the life we’re called to live.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett

The Parable of the Faithful and Evil Servant: A Call to Steadfast Readiness. Matthew 24:45-51

Continuing our study of the Parables in Matthew.

Few passages in Scripture cut as sharply—and as lovingly—as the parable Jesus gives in Matthew 24:45–51. Spoken in the midst of His teaching on the end times, this short story is less about predicting dates and more about shaping character. It’s a parable that asks every believer a piercing question: What kind of servant am I becoming while I wait for my Lord?

Let’s explore its message, using the King James Version for key citations.

A Tale of Two Servants

Jesus begins with a picture of a steward entrusted with responsibility:

“Who then is a faithful and wise servant, whom his lord hath made ruler over his household, to give them meat in due season?” — Matthew 24:45 (KJV)

This servant is not praised for brilliance, charisma, or ambition. He is praised for faithfulness and wisdom—two qualities that show up in the quiet, consistent choices of everyday life.

The Reward of Faithfulness

Jesus continues:

“Blessed is that servant, whom his lord when he cometh shall find so doing.” — Matthew 24:46 (KJV)

The blessing is not for the servant who intended to be faithful, nor for the one who used to be faithful, but for the one who is found faithful when the Master returns. The reward is astonishing:

“He shall make him ruler over all his goods.” — Matthew 24:47 (KJV)

Faithfulness in small things leads to stewardship over greater things. Jesus consistently teaches this principle, and here He ties it directly to His return.

The Danger of a Neglectful Heart

Then the tone shifts. Jesus describes another servant—one who lets delay distort his character:

“But and if that evil servant shall say in his heart, My lord delayeth his coming…” — Matthew 24:48 (KJV)

Notice the decline begins in the heart, not in outward behavior. The servant doesn’t start by beating others or indulging in excess. He starts by adjusting his expectations: There’s plenty of time. No need to be diligent now.

From that inner shift flows destructive behavior:

“…and shall begin to smite his fellowservants, and to eat and drink with the drunken.” — Matthew 24:49 (KJV)

Neglect of the Master’s presence leads to abuse of others and indulgence of self.

The Sudden Reckoning

Jesus concludes with a sobering warning:

“The lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looketh not for him…” — Matthew 24:50 (KJV)

The outcome is tragic:

“…and shall cut him asunder, and appoint him his portion with the hypocrites: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” — Matthew 24:51 (KJV)

This is not a gentle ending. Jesus wants His listeners to feel the weight of spiritual negligence. The parable is not meant to terrify but to awaken.

What This Means for Us Today

1. Faithfulness Is Measured in the Ordinary

The faithful servant isn’t performing miracles or preaching sermons. He’s simply doing what the Master assigned—day after day. In a world obsessed with visibility and achievement, Jesus honors quiet obedience.

2. Delay Tests Devotion

Every generation of Christians has wrestled with the apparent “delay” of Christ’s return. The question is not when He will come, but how we will live while we wait.

3. Character Is Revealed Over Time

Both servants had the same position, the same opportunity, and the same Master. What separated them was the condition of their hearts.

4. Readiness Is Not About Prediction—It’s About Posture

Jesus isn’t calling us to decode prophetic timelines. He’s calling us to live in such a way that His return—whenever it happens—finds us faithful.

A Final Encouragement

This parable is both a warning and an invitation. It warns us against drifting into complacency, but it also invites us into a life of purpose, diligence, and hope. The Master is returning—not to catch us failing, but to reward those who have remained steadfast.

Faithfulness is not glamorous, but it is glorious in the eyes of God.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett

Learning from the Fig Tree: A Reflection on Matthew 24:32–35

Continuing our study of the parables in Matthew.

The teachings of Jesus often come wrapped in simple images—seeds, lamps, sheep, and in this case, a fig tree. Yet beneath the simplicity lies a depth that rewards anyone willing to pause and ponder. Matthew 24:32–35 (KJV) is one of those moments where Jesus uses the everyday to illuminate the eternal.

“Now learn a parable of the fig tree; When his branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves, ye know that summer is nigh.” — Matthew 24:32 (KJV)

A Lesson Hidden in Plain Sight

In the ancient world, the fig tree was a familiar sight. Its seasonal rhythms were predictable: tender branches and new leaves meant warmth was coming. Jesus taps into this shared understanding to teach His disciples how to discern spiritual seasons.

Just as the fig tree signals the nearness of summer, the signs He describes earlier in the chapter point toward the nearness of His return. The message is not meant to stir fear but awareness. Jesus invites His followers to be attentive, discerning, and spiritually awake.

“When Ye Shall See All These Things…”

Jesus continues:

“So likewise ye, when ye shall see all these things, know that it is near, even at the doors.” — Matthew 24:33 (KJV)

The emphasis here is on recognition. Not speculation. Not date-setting. But understanding the times with a grounded, steady heart.

The fig tree doesn’t panic when its leaves appear—it simply responds to the season. In the same way, believers are called to respond with faith, readiness, and trust.

A Promise That Will Not Pass Away

Perhaps the most striking part of this passage is Jesus’ declaration of certainty:

“Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.” — Matthew 24:35 (KJV)

Everything we see—mountains, oceans, stars—will one day fade. But His words remain. They are more enduring than the cosmos, more stable than the ground beneath our feet. In a world that feels increasingly fragile, this promise offers a foundation that cannot be shaken.

Living in the Light of His Words

So what does this parable invite us to do today?

Stay spiritually attentive. Just as farmers watch the trees, we watch our hearts and the world around us with wisdom.
Hold onto His promises. His words are not temporary; they are eternal anchors.
Live with hopeful readiness. Not anxious waiting, but purposeful living.

The fig tree reminds us that God’s timing is purposeful and His word is trustworthy. Seasons change, but His truth endures.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett

A Remorseful and Hopeful Testimony

I speak now as a man who has lived long enough to see the truth of his own failures. My life has been marked by choices that broke hearts, shattered trust, and wounded the people God entrusted to me. I cannot hide from it anymore. Like Adam in the garden, I once tried to cover myself with excuses, but the voice of the Lord kept calling, “Where art thou?” (Genesis 3:9). Today, I answer honestly.

Five Marriages, Four Betrayed by My Own Sin

I entered marriage lightly, without reverence, without fear of God. Five times I stood before witnesses and vowed faithfulness. Four times I broke those vows with my own unfaithfulness. I lived as though the commandment “Thou shalt not commit adultery” (Exodus 20:14) was a suggestion, not a holy boundary.

My arrogance convinced me I deserved more than what I had. I chased pleasure, attention, and validation, leaving behind a trail of broken promises. Only in my last marriage did I remain faithful, but even that came after years of damage done. It was not righteousness that kept me faithful—it was the exhaustion of sin finally catching up to me.

Estranged From My Children

I have four children who grew up learning to live without their father. My sins did not stay contained within my own life; they spilled into theirs. Scripture warns, “Be sure your sin will find you out” (Numbers 32:23), and mine found me in the silence between me and my children.

I forfeited the right to guide them. I forfeited the right to be trusted. I forfeited the right to be present. I cannot blame them for the distance—they learned it from me.

Addiction: The Chains I Chose

Drugs and alcohol became my refuge when conviction grew too loud. Instead of turning to God, I turned to the bottle and the needle. I lived the truth of Proverbs 23:29–30: “Who hath woe? who hath sorrow?… They that tarry long at the wine.”

I numbed myself to avoid facing the man I had become. But every morning, the pain returned heavier than before. Addiction was not something that happened to me—it was something I embraced to escape responsibility.

Arrogance: The Root of My Downfall

Pride was the throne I sat upon. I believed I could outrun consequences, outtalk conviction, outmaneuver God Himself. But “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18). My fall was long, and it was deserved.

I hurt others because I refused to see myself truthfully. I hurt myself because I refused to bow my head.

The Last Twenty Years: Learning to Trust God for All

Somewhere along the way—broken, tired, and out of excuses—I finally turned toward God. The last twenty years of my life have been a slow, painful, beautiful lesson in learning to trust Him for everything. Not just for forgiveness, but for daily bread, for direction, for strength, for sobriety, for humility, for hope.

I learned that “God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble” (James 4:6). I learned that His mercy is not earned—it is received. I learned that even when I was faithless, He remained faithful.

These years have not erased my past, but they have taught me to walk differently. To speak differently. To see differently. To live with open hands instead of clenched fists.

At 68 Years Old: A Heart Full of Regret and Hope

Now, at 68 years old, I look back with many regrets. I long for a redo, a chance to be the man I should have been. But time does not run backward. What I broke cannot be unbroken by my own strength.

Yet even in this, I find hope. For the thief on the cross had no redo, no chance to fix his past, no opportunity to make amends—and yet Jesus said to him, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43).

If mercy reached him, perhaps it can reach me too.

A Cry for Mercy Before My Final Breath

I do not know how many days remain for me. But before my final breath, I pray for forgiveness—not because I deserve it, but because God is merciful. Like David, I cry, “Have mercy upon me, O God… blot out my transgressions” (Psalm 51:1). And I cling to the promise that “a broken and a contrite heart… thou wilt not despise” (Psalm 51:17).

I cannot undo the past, but I can surrender the future. I can walk humbly. I can seek reconciliation where possible. I can live as a man forgiven, not a man pretending.

If grace finds me before the end, it will be the greatest miracle of my life.

The Wedding Feast: A Royal Invitation and a Sobering Warning (Matthew 22:1–14)

Continuing in the Parables of Matthew

The parable of the Wedding Feast stands as one of Christ’s most vivid portrayals of the kingdom of heaven. Jesus speaks of a king preparing a marriage for his son, sending out invitations, and receiving responses that range from indifference to violence. The story is beautiful, unsettling, and deeply revealing — a portrait of divine grace offered, resisted, and ultimately extended to all who will come.

A Kingdom Compared to a Feast

Jesus begins, “The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son” (Matthew 22:2). This is not a dry lecture about religion — it is a royal celebration overflowing with joy, abundance, and honor. God is not merely calling people to a duty; He is inviting them to a feast.

The Tragedy of Refused Grace

The king sends servants to call the invited guests, but “they would not come” (Matthew 22:3). Their refusal is not due to ignorance but unwillingness. Some are apathetic — “they made light of it” (v. 5). Others are hostile — “the remnant took his servants, and entreated them spitefully, and slew them” (v. 6).

This mirrors Israel’s long history of rejecting the prophets (cf. Matthew 23:37). It also exposes the human heart: people often decline God’s invitation not because it is unclear, but because they prefer their own pursuits.

Judgment and a New Invitation

The king responds with righteous judgment (Matthew 22:7), yet the story does not end in wrath. Instead, the invitation widens:

“Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage” (Matthew 22:9).

This is the gospel going out to the nations — the poor, the broken, the unexpected, the unworthy. The hall is filled with guests who never imagined they would be welcomed (v. 10). Grace is lavish, surprising, and far-reaching.

The Wedding Garment: A Call to True Transformation

The parable takes a startling turn when the king notices a man without a wedding garment. He asks, “Friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment?” (Matthew 22:12).

The garment symbolizes the righteousness God provides — not self-made goodness, but the covering given through Christ (cf. Isaiah 61:10; Revelation 19:8). The man’s silence reveals his presumption. He wanted the feast without the transformation. He wanted the benefits of the kingdom without the King.

The king’s response is severe: “Bind him hand and foot… cast him into outer darkness” (Matthew 22:13). This is not cruelty; it is clarity. God welcomes all, but He does not lower the standards of holiness. The invitation is free, but the garment is required.

“Many Are Called, but Few Are Chosen”

The parable ends with a solemn summary: “For many are called, but few are chosen” (Matthew 22:14). The call goes out broadly — to the highways, the hedges, the unlikely, the uninterested. But only those who respond with genuine faith, clothed in Christ’s righteousness, enter the joy of the kingdom.

Why This Parable Still Speaks Today

It confronts complacency. God’s invitation is glorious, yet many still “make light of it.”
It exposes hostility. The human heart resists God’s authority.
It magnifies grace. The King keeps inviting — even the unlikeliest guests.
It demands authenticity. A place at the table requires more than attendance; it requires a new heart.

The Wedding Feast is both a celebration and a warning — a reminder that God’s kingdom is a feast of grace, but also a call to be clothed in the righteousness of Christ.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett

A Vineyard, a Warning, and a Promise: Reflecting on Matthew 21:33–46

Continuing in the Parables of Matthew. There’s something about this parable that grips me every time I read it. Out of all the teachings in the Book of Matthew, this one stands out as one of the strongest and most profound. It doesn’t whisper its message—it confronts, challenges, and invites all at once. The imagery is simple enough to picture, yet the meaning runs deep enough to unsettle the heart in the best possible way.

Maybe it’s because the story feels so uncomfortably familiar. The vineyard, the patient householder, the stubborn tenants—it’s not just an ancient narrative, it’s a mirror. It exposes the tension between God’s generosity and our tendency to cling to what was never ours to begin with. And woven through the entire passage is a tenderness that’s easy to miss: God keeps reaching out, keeps sending messengers, keeps giving space for repentance.

That’s why this parable hits so hard. It’s not just a warning; it’s a window into God’s heart. It shows His patience, His justice, and ultimately His willingness to send His own Son—not to condemn, but to redeem. And when you sit with that truth for a moment, the weight of it becomes deeply personal.

This parable doesn’t just ask to be studied. It asks to be felt. It asks to be lived.

Few of Jesus’ parables cut as sharply—or shine as brightly—as the Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen in Matthew 21:33–46 (KJV). It’s a story wrapped in agricultural imagery, but its message reaches straight into the heart of spiritual responsibility, human rebellion, and God’s unwavering purpose.

Let’s walk through it together and explore why this ancient vineyard still speaks to us today.

The Parable: A Vineyard with a History

Jesus begins with a familiar scene:

“There was a certain householder, which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about, and digged a winepress in it, and built a tower…” (Matthew 21:33, KJV)

Every detail matters. The householder (representing God) doesn’t just plant a vineyard—He equips it with everything needed to flourish. Then He leases it to husbandmen (the leaders of Israel) and goes “into a far country.”

When harvest time arrives, the owner sends servants to collect the fruit. Instead of honoring the agreement, the husbandmen beat, stone, and kill the servants. More servants come; the violence escalates. Finally, the owner sends his son:

“They will reverence my son.” (Matthew 21:37, KJV)

But they don’t. They cast him out and kill him.

Jesus then asks His listeners what the owner will do. They answer:

“He will miserably destroy those wicked men, and will let out his vineyard unto other husbandmen…” (Matthew 21:41, KJV)

And Jesus seals the point with Scripture:

“The stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner…” (Matthew 21:42, KJV)

What Jesus Was Really Saying

This parable wasn’t vague or mysterious to its original audience. The chief priests and Pharisees knew exactly what Jesus meant—and that’s why they wanted to arrest Him (Matthew 21:45–46).

1. God’s Patience Has a Purpose

The repeated sending of servants mirrors the long line of prophets God sent to Israel. Each one carried a message calling the people back to faithfulness. Many were ignored, mistreated, or killed.

Yet God kept sending them.

2. Rejecting the Son Has Consequences

The killing of the son foreshadows Jesus’ own death. The leaders would reject the very cornerstone of God’s redemptive plan.

3. God’s Kingdom Will Bear Fruit—With or Without Us

Jesus declares:

“The kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof.” (Matthew 21:43, KJV)

This isn’t about ethnicity but about faithfulness. God’s vineyard will be fruitful, and He entrusts it to those who respond to His Son.

What This Means for Us Today

The parable isn’t just a historical indictment—it’s a spiritual mirror.

Are we tending God’s vineyard or resisting His voice?

We’re all stewards of something: our time, relationships, gifts, influence. The question is whether we’re producing fruit or clinging to control.

Do we welcome God’s correction?

The husbandmen rejected every messenger. We often do the same—ignoring conviction, resisting change, or silencing truth that challenges us.

What place does the Son have in our vineyard?

Jesus is the cornerstone. When He’s rejected, everything collapses. When He’s honored, everything aligns.

The Rejected Stone Still Stands

Jesus’ final words in this passage echo through the centuries:

“Whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken: but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder.” (Matthew 21:44, KJV)

It’s a sobering reminder that encountering Christ always brings transformation. We either fall on Him in humility—or face Him in judgment.

Final Thoughts

The Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen is a story of divine generosity, human rebellion, and God’s unstoppable plan—but it becomes far more than a story when you let it settle into your own life. It nudges you to look honestly at the vineyard God has placed in your hands: your relationships, your gifts, your responsibilities, your faith. None of these things are accidents. They’re entrusted to you with the same care and intention the householder showed when he planted, hedged, and prepared his vineyard.

And then comes the harder part—listening. The parable reminds you that God still sends “servants” into your life: moments of conviction, unexpected encouragement, Scripture that hits a little too close, people who speak truth you didn’t ask for. It’s easy to brush those messengers aside or explain them away. But the story invites you to pause and ask what God might be saying through them, and whether you’re willing to hear it.

Most personal of all is the reminder that the Son comes not to condemn your failures but to redeem your whole vineyard—thorns, weeds, and all. The husbandmen in the parable saw the son as a threat to their control. But when you see Him as the One who restores what you’ve neglected, heals what you’ve broken, and brings fruit where you’ve struggled, the story shifts from warning to hope.

In the end, this parable becomes an invitation: to loosen your grip, to welcome the Son with humility, and to trust that His presence transforms the vineyard you’ve been tending. It’s a call to live gratefully, respond faithfully, and let your life bear the kind of fruit that reflects the generosity of the One who planted it in the first place.

Have you accepted Him yet?

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett

The Parable of the Two Sons: Matthew 21:28–32 A Wake‑Up Call to Authentic Obedience

Continuing in the parables in Matthew.

Few of Jesus’ parables cut as directly to the heart as the short but piercing story found in Matthew 21:28–32. Spoken during His final week in Jerusalem, this parable confronts the gap between what we say and what we actually do—a gap as relevant today as it was two thousand years ago.

Jesus begins with a simple scenario:

“A certain man had two sons; and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to day in my vineyard.” (Matthew 21:28, KJV)

The first son refuses—bluntly. But later, he reconsiders and goes. The second son responds with polished obedience:

“I go, sir” (v. 30)

—yet never sets foot in the vineyard.

Jesus then asks His listeners, many of whom were religious leaders, which son actually did the father’s will. The answer is obvious: the first. But the implications are anything but comfortable.

Words Are Easy. Repentance Is Hard.

The first son’s initial refusal mirrors the posture of many who, at first, resist God. They may live far from His commands, uninterested or even rebellious. But something happens—conviction, humility, awakening—and they turn. Jesus points to tax collectors and harlots as examples of this surprising transformation:

“For John came unto you in the way of righteousness… and the publicans and the harlots believed him.” (v. 32)

These were the people who said “no” to God with their lives, yet later repented and obeyed.

The second son, however, represents those who sound obedient but never follow through. Their lips say “yes,” but their lives say “no.” Jesus directs this warning squarely at the religious elite:

“Ye… repented not afterward, that ye might believe him.” (v. 32)

They had the language of faith, the appearance of devotion, the reputation of righteousness—but not the obedience that matters.

The Vineyard Is Calling

The vineyard in the parable symbolizes God’s work in the world—His kingdom, His mission, His call to righteousness. Every believer is summoned into that vineyard. The question is not whether we know the right words, but whether we actually go.

This parable challenges us to examine:

1. Our Responses

Do we give God polite, spiritual‑sounding answers while avoiding the hard work of obedience?

2. Our Repentance

Are we willing to change course when the Spirit convicts us, even if our past says “no”?

3. Our Authenticity

Do our actions match our declarations of faith?

Grace for the “No” That Becomes “Yes”

One of the most beautiful truths in this parable is that God honors repentance more than reputation. The first son’s story reminds us that a messy beginning does not disqualify us from a faithful ending. God delights in the person who turns, even late, and steps into His will.

A Final Reflection

The parable of the two sons is not merely a critique of ancient religious leaders—it is a mirror held up to every believer. Jesus invites us to move beyond lip service into lived obedience. The Father still calls, “Go work to day in my vineyard.” Our answer is not measured by our words, but by our steps.

Discovering the Path of Salvation series by Stephen Luckett.