The Cautionary Tale

A sermon for the 17th Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 22
October 5, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; Psalm 37:1-10; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10

“Never pray for patience.” If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times. A woman once told me out of the blue on the street; I had no idea who she was. She said, “Pastor, never pray for patience–I learned my lesson.” I chuckled because I had heard it before, but she was dead serious. She said she prayed for patience once–just one time–and God turned her life upside down: her hypercritical mother-in-law moved in with them due to illness within a month; her spouse suddenly became far more annoying; her dog got diabetes. Never pray for patience–it’s a cautionary tale. A couple times I’ve heard something else similar. I was once told, “Father, I got in trouble because I started to ask God to teach me to love other people more.” The man went on to explain that as soon as he wanted to love more, God sent him all sorts of people he didn’t like, and he didn’t want to love them. But that was his prayer. Before he knew it he found himself back at his family reunion, and he said he hated all of them; the next weekend he was at the cooling shelter, and “those people” were not “his people.” Never pray, teach me to love–it’s a cautionary tale. Perhaps there’s another cautionary tale in today’s gospel reading. My friends, be careful–be careful when you, like the apostles, ask Jesus to increase your faith. Because he just might do it. 

Our gospel starts today with this exclamation from the apostles: Lord, increase our faith! But to understand why they need their faith increased, we have to read a few verses before. This is what Jesus says right before today’s reading: 

“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble. Be on your guard! If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, “I repent”, you must forgive.’” (Luke 17:1-4)

Increase our faith! Jesus is talking about the responsibilities we have to one another in the Body of Christ. Look out for the weak and little ones, he says. Go out of your way to protect and nurture them, he says. Suffer the little children, he says, even when they scream in church and you feel like you can’t pray. That’s what Jesus calls us to do, and if we can’t, it would be better if we were drowned in the sea. That’s what Jesus says. No wonder the apostles ask for help–increase our faith! 

I was once at a Eucharist with a lot of little kids around. The priest was saying the Eucharistic prayer. She broke the bread. There was silence. And right before we said the correct words (you know them: Alleluia. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast. Alleluia.), we heard a little one in the congregation. She began to boldly sing: “Happy birthday Jesus!” And we all laughed–the priest, the organist, the parents, the church members. It was joyous. We all laughed except for one man. He stormed out before receiving Communion, because that kind of joy was not appropriate in his mind. He didn’t want to hear the children–such behavior wasn’t accepted back in his day. And I wanted to tell him, watch out for millstones. Lord, increase our faith. 

Jesus tells the disciples they must forgive. He says must. It’s a command. You don’t get gold stars for it; you’re not some spiritual superhero; you aren’t the employee of the month. Forgiveness is expected, even commanded. Perhaps that’s why Jesus ends today’s lesson the way he does: he says, “So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’” But there are plenty of times I don’t want to. I know I’m not alone. Increase my faith. Help me, Lord. 

There is someone I have had a hard time forgiving. It’s been 8 years. This past week as Molly and I were walking, I finally said, it’s time to forgive him. He didn’t do anything to me, the man. He seriously hurt a friend of mine, and I got angry. My hurt friend has moved on; he’s forgiven him. As far as I can tell, I’m the only one still nursing a grudge. And if I’m honest, it would be easier to nurse that grudge for a few more decades–certainly easier than calling him up, because at this point, I need to call and apologize to him. But Jesus says to forgive. It’s a command. Lord, increase my faith. 

It’s a risky prayer. But I hope you’ll pray it with me. I hope you’ll go out on that limb. Sometimes when we pray for faith, we think we’re praying for a special ability to get God to do what we want, a sort of superpower because we’re good. We think we’re praying for a special coin that can spit out a miracle, or a special bean that can grow a beanstalk right into God’s throneroom. But that’s not faith. It’s pride.

When we pray for more faith, we are simply praying that we would be more connected to the life of God in all we think, do, and say. We are praying that we would be guided and directed more and more by God’s Holy Spirit. We are praying that we would live more and more, day by day, in Christ our Lord. We are praying that we would trust in God, more and more as each day passes. And here’s the hard part: When we pray, increase our faith, we are praying that all of those things that separate us from that deeper life in God would be removed, like a mulberry tree uprooted and planted in the sea. And it will hurt, that removing. It will take us down paths we would rather not go. It will push us to that place of pain and heartache, that place that needs healing and grace, that place that is just so much easier to ignore. It will smooth out the rough edges of our pride and hypocrisy, and give us hearts of flesh instead of hearts of stone. Yes, it’s a risky prayer. But pray it with me anyway: Lord, increase our faith. And while you’re at it, Lord, grant us patience, and teach us to love.