EP 275: GOD IS GOOD . . . AND WE THANK HIM

Rewind

As this part of Luke wraps up, we get the list of the twelve people Jesus handpicks to be His closest friends and followers—His apostles. Some of the names jump out right away: Peter, James, John. They’re all over the gospel stories and go on to become major leaders in the early church. But then there are others—guys like James, son of Alphaeus—who we honestly don’t hear anything else about, apart from their names. It’s a mix of personalities, backgrounds, and even political views. You’ve got Matthew, a tax collector who worked for the Romans, and then Simon, a Zealot who probably couldn’t stand Rome. That’s a pretty wild combo to put on the same team.

There’s no one type of person Jesus chooses. No spiritual résumé required. Some of these guys had serious doubts, some made huge mistakes, and one of them even betrayed Him. Still, Jesus chose them—flawed, messy, regular people—to be part of His mission. And that’s the reminder tucked into these few verses: Jesus can call anyone, and He’ll use everyone who’s willing to say yes to following Him.

Imagine it: it’s your day off, the sun’s out, there’s a soft breeze, and you’re just walking through a wheat field with Jesus. As you stroll, you casually pick a head of grain, rub it in your hands, and pop it in your mouth—just enjoying the moment and the peace of being with Him. The whole scene just feels like rest.

But not for the Pharisees. They’re watching this peaceful moment and instead of seeing rest, all they see are broken rules. And it’s the same thing in the next scene, when Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath—they’re upset, not amazed. Why? Because somewhere along the way, they lost sight of what the Sabbath was really about.

The Sabbath wasn’t meant to be a burden—it was meant to be a gift. It’s not about control; it’s about letting go. It’s a weekly reminder that we’re not in charge and we don’t have to be. The world keeps turning even when we stop working. Jesus, the Lord of the Sabbath, is our true rest. And He invites us into that rest—not just once a week, but in every part of our lives. Taking a break, pausing, resting—it’s not laziness. It’s trust. It’s us saying, “Jesus, you’ve got this.”

After watching Jesus forgive sins —and then seeing Him and His disciples hanging out and feasting with tax collectors and other outcasts—the Pharisees are done. They’ve had enough. So, they confront Him. “Why,” they ask, “don’t your disciples follow the traditions? Why aren’t they fasting like John’s disciples or ours?”

Jesus’ answer probably didn’t help their frustration. He doesn’t dismiss the old ways outright, but He makes it clear: the traditions and practices of the past, while meaningful, just aren’t enough. He didn’t come to tweak the system or give religion a little makeover. He came to do something entirely new.

What Jesus is bringing isn’t a patch job. It’s a whole new way of connecting with God—a new covenant that goes way beyond the limitations of the old one. What’s needed isn’t just reformation. It’s transformation.

That’s the heart of it. Jesus didn’t come just to give us better rules or habits to clean up our lives a bit. He came to give us new life. A whole new way of living and being.

And here’s the thing: the people who struggle the most with this new life? Often, it’s the ones most invested in the old ways—the ones who’ve grown comfortable with the rules, the rituals, the structure. Sometimes religion itself can become the biggest barrier to real relationship with God.

We kicked off this part of Luke with Jesus calling some pretty unexpected people to follow Him—but now, He takes it even further. In this story, Jesus doesn’t just invite someone unlikely… He invites someone most people would’ve seen as completely undeserving.

Back in the day, tax collectors weren’t just unpopular because, well, no one loves paying taxes. In first-century Judea, they were seen as traitors. They worked for the oppressive Roman Empire, collecting money that funded the very soldiers keeping their fellow Jews under control. And to make things worse, most of them padded their own pockets by overcharging people.

And yet—Jesus looks at one of them, Levi (aka Matthew), and says, “Follow me.” Just like that. No lecture. No conditions. Just an invitation. And Levi? He’s so overwhelmed that he throws a huge party and invites all his fellow outcasts to meet Jesus—the one who reaches out to the people everybody else rejects and says, “You’re invited.”

And here’s the thing: Jesus is still doing that today. He’s still inviting the unexpected, the outcasts, and the ones who feel like they don’t belong. And every time one of them says “yes”? Heaven throws a party. The only question is—are we joining the celebration? Or are we standing off to the side like the religious folks back then, complaining about grace because we’ve forgotten just how much we need it too?

This story is a classic Sunday School favourite and it’s easy to see why. You’ve got friendship, bold faith, and a powerful moment where Jesus not only says He can forgive sins, but proves it.

For anyone listening who hasn’t made the decision to follow Jesus yet, this is such a great moment to introduce them to who He really is— yes, He’s someone who sees and cares about our practical needs, but He also sees our deepest need: the need to be forgiven. Jesus doesn’t just fix what’s broken on the outside. He goes deeper. He has the authority to heal hearts and make lives whole.

And for those of us who already know what Jesus can do, this story is a challenge. It’s a reminder that we’ve got people in our lives who haven’t met Jesus yet—and we’ve got a role to play. The paralyzed man’s friends didn’t just hope for healing—they believed Jesus could do it, and they did whatever it took to get their friend in front of Him. That kind of faith and determination made all the difference. So, the question for us is: who needs us to carry them Jesus so He can heal and forgive them?

Jesus isn’t just able to heal us and make us clean—he actually wants to. That can be a tough truth to hold onto sometimes. Some of us doubt his power, others doubt his desire to step in and help—and let’s be honest, some days we struggle with both.

In the story of the leper who comes to Jesus, the man clearly believes Jesus has the power to heal. What he’s not so sure about is whether Jesus actually wants to. But Jesus doesn’t hesitate. He says, “I’m willing,” and then backs it up by healing him on the spot.

If you’re preaching today, don’t miss the chance to remind people of that. Jesus can heal, absolutely—but more than that, he wants to. He’s willing. He’s not distant or reluctant. He sees us, and he cares. And here’s the cool part: when Jesus heals someone, they become a walking advertisement to the world of who he is—proof of both his power and his heart.