The Unnatural Harvest A Sermon for the Third Last Sunday of the Church Year Luke 6:27-38

 

The Unnatural Harvest

A Sermon for the Third Last Sunday of the Church Year
Luke 6:27-38

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

If you were to walk through our city streets, or drive through the farms just beyond its edges, and you asked people, “What is the basic rule of life?” what do you think they would say? I suspect many would offer some version of, “You get what you deserve.” Or, “What goes around, comes around.” In isiXhosa, we might think of the profound truth in the concept of Ubuntu – “Umntu ngumntu ngabantu” – I am because we are. But even this can be twisted in a fallen world to mean, “I will be for you, if you are for me.”

It’s a logic we understand. It’s the logic of the ledger book. It’s the logic of the farm: you plant maize, you get maize. You plant weeds, you get nothing but trouble. It’s the logic of the business deal: I will give you this, and you will give me that in return. It is a logic of reciprocity. It feels natural, safe, and fair.

And then we have Jesus. And on this Sunday, as we look towards the end of the year and the ultimate fulfillment of all things, Jesus stands this entire world’s logic on its head. He speaks not of the natural harvest, but of a supernatural one. He calls us to a way of life that, by the world’s standards, is utterly unnatural.

“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”

To the farmer here, this is like saying, “If a hailstorm comes and batters your crops, go out and thank it.” To the person in the city, it’s like saying, “If someone hijacks your car, invite them for tea.” Our instinct, our natural instinct, is to fight back, to withdraw, to protect, to seek revenge. To give the other cheek? To hand over your coat as well? To give to everyone who asks? This sounds like a recipe for being taken advantage of. It sounds like weakness.

But, my friends, Jesus is not calling us to be weak. He is calling us to be free. He is introducing us to the economy of the Kingdom of Heaven, which operates on a completely different principle than the economy of this world.

The world’s economy says, “Love those who love you.” Even the gangs and the tax collectors do that. The world’s economy says, “Lend only when you are sure of a return.” That’s just good business.

But the Kingdom economy says: “Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.”

Here is the heart of it. Our calling as Christians is not merely to be good people; it is to be God’s people. And the defining characteristic of our God is this radical, unconditional, seemingly illogical love. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good. He sends rain on the just and the unjust. The farmer who curses God still gets the rain for his crops. The city businessman who never darkens the door of a church still breathes the air God provides.

God’s love is not a reaction to our worthiness. It is an outpouring of His nature. And Jesus says, “Be like that.” Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

This is where it leaves the realm of simple ethics and becomes a matter of faith. We can only live this way if we truly believe two things about the end of all things:

1. That God is the final Judge. “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.” When we take revenge, when we hold a grudge, when we refuse to forgive, we are grabbing the judge’s gavel from God’s hand. We are saying, “I will handle this sentence myself.” But on the Last Day, we see that the throne of judgment belongs to Christ alone. Our job is not to be the judge; our job is to be the witness, the servant, the child who reflects the Father’s mercy.
2. That God is the ultimate Provider. “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.” This isn’t a prosperity gospel; it’s a promise of the Kingdom. When we live in the fear of scarcity—scarcity of money, of dignity, of safety—we hoard, we retaliate, we build walls. But when we trust that our heavenly Father holds our ultimate security, we are set free to give generously, to love recklessly, and to forgive lavishly. We can let go of the ledger book because our inheritance is not based on our balancing of accounts, but on the perfect life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So what does this look like for us, here and now?

For the farmer, it might mean praying for the neighbour whose cattle keep breaking your fence, and seeking a peaceful solution rather than just escalating the conflict.

For the urban dweller, it might mean refusing to speak ill of the colleague who gossiped about you, and instead looking for a way to do them a good turn.

For all of us, it means breaking the cycle of violence, of gossip, of resentment, that plagues our communities. It means being the one who, when slapped on one cheek, doesn’t slap back, but stands firm in a love that refuses to be diminished by hatred. This is not weakness; it is the most powerful force in the universe, for it is the force that raised Christ from the dead.

As we approach the end of the Church Year, we are reminded that this world, with all its logic of revenge and reciprocity, is passing away. The Kingdom that is coming, the Kingdom that Jesus inaugurated, operates on the law of love. On the Last Day, the only measure that will matter is the measure of the mercy we have received from the cross, and the measure of that same mercy we have given away.

So go, and be unnatural. Love your enemies. Do good. Lend without expectation. Forgive. In doing so, you are not being a fool. You are being a child of your Father in heaven. You are storing up a harvest not of this world, but of the world to come—a harvest of grace, of peace, and of eternal life.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.