In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
“We are all beggars. This is true.” These were Martin Luther's last words. And as true as they were for Luther, they still ring true for us today.
From the very moment our lives begin until our final moments, we are beggars. In the womb, we come into being by no force or wish of our own. We are fed, nourished, and sheltered by that powerful outsider known as our mother. We must beg her body for the privilege of continuing there during gestation. We must beg our nourishment from her, and silently entreat her not to cause harm to us by her actions or intake. When the hour comes for us to be brought forth from the womb, we must beg for passage into the world, and we begin begging for our food anew.
As a tiny infant, each of us lived as a beggar. One need only to watch a newborn at the breast to see the beggarly nature of mankind. A newborn baby must beg for food and shelter; his only hope is to make enough fuss and noise that someone will provide for his needs. He must beg to be fed, beg to have his diaper changed, beg for warm clothing and a bed.
As we age, our begging takes on new dimensions. Young children beg for toys, for their parents' attention and affection. Older children beg for the acceptance of their peers and the affirmation of their growing maturity. As a child nears adulthood, she will seek the attentions of a spouse, seek the approval of her parents for her goals in life, seek the support and encouragement of her friends and confidants.
Lest you be deluded, adults are beggars also. We beg for jobs. We beg for credit from the bank. We beg for the hand of our beloved in marriage. We beg for the future of our families and our country. We still beg for the acceptance and support of our family and friends. Throughout our lives, we are always beggars, looking for something to come to us which we ourselves cannot procure.
However, beggars want to be choosers. Have you ever been to a soup kitchen or homeless shelter and watched how the recipients act? For each person that passes through the line, even odds are that he will complain about the gift he receives in some way or another. He doesn't like carrots in his chicken soup. He wants white bread, not wheat, for his sandwich. That guy ahead of him got a bigger cookie. Someone took his seat at the table.
How often are we the same way, in our own circumstances and dealings? You join the military to see the world, and you get to see the New Mexico desert. You apply for the fancy, shiny credit card, but the bank fails to give you a high enough limit to buy the toys you planned to charge on it. You apply for the great, high-paying job in the city, and end up working eighty hours a week, and on call the rest of the time. You think one more kid would be nice, so you get triplets.
So we begin to harbor resentment in our hearts. Resentment toward that military recruiter, toward that hiring officer, toward the bank. We harbor resentment toward the spouse who somehow seems not to live up to the ideal we thought we married. We harbor resentment toward the children who eat away at house and home. We harbor resentment toward the co-worker who gets the better office, the closer parking space, the easier workload and schedule.
After all, you might think that you deserve the high and prominent spot at the banquet table. You deserve the honor for your accomplishments and achievements. You deserve to be noticed and credited for what you do and how hard you work to keep things running relatively smoothly. You deserve praise for getting all your work done on schedule. You deserve praise because your children are good kids, and not ruffians like the family down the street. You should have the seat of honor at the feast.
But beggars can't be choosers.
In fact, far from deserving any thanks and praise for our accomplishments, we deserve only death and the pangs of hell for our achievements. Our works have all been tainted by sin. Our hearts have turned inward, focusing us on what we want and what will bring us the most glory.
Really, what we must beg for most earnestly is forgiveness and mercy. We must beg our heavenly Father for the very life and breath we have. We must beg Him, not by our own merits, but for the sake of Jesus, to blot out all our transgressions and give us new life. We must beg that our foolishness and sinfulness be washed away and that the Holy Spirit conform our wills to His.
Lamb of God, that takest away the sin of the world, have mercy upon us!
We are but beggars, but we can rejoice in the sure and certain comfort that our heavenly Father is merciful and ever-loving. Before our hearts or minds ever formed a thought to ask Him, He broke into this benighted sphere of human existence and in the person of Jesus He took up all our frailties and needs, all our failings and resentment, and He bore them to the Cross. Upon the cross, Jesus suffered the ultimate beggarly existence as He was forsaken by God. He died for our transgressions, and was raised for our forgiveness. He took our weak, beggarly nature away, with all its resentments and shortcomings, and He made us sons and daughters of God, and He has given to us all that belongs to the Father – forgiveness, life, and salvation, and the promise of eternity in heaven.
And now, our font-washed hearts move us to take up our seats at the banquet table. Cleansed of selfish ambition and pride, we sit at the lowest spots. We acknowledge with humility that all we have is God's, and that we are not deserving of the invitation to the table, let alone a seat.
But wonder of wonders, our heavenly Father comes to each of us and says, “Come up to a higher and better place. Take your place as an honored son, an honored daughter at My Table.” So we come to His Table today. We come with hearts broken and contrite, and we come at His gracious invitation, not claiming for ourselves a place of honor, but receiving all the honor and glory that is His because we are His children. Having been adopted as sons, the inheritance is ours, and the seat at the Table is ours.
So come to the Table. Take your place at the feast. Receive in your mouth the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus for the forgiveness of your sins. Receive in the flesh a token of your adoption. Receive Him on your tongue and know that while you are still a beggar in this world, your needs have been met by your Father in heaven. And rejoice at the gifts He gives to you this day.
In the Name of Jesus. Amen.
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