Second Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 5A)
June 7, 2026
Text: Matt. 9:9-13
It is not lost on me that our Holy Gospel this day is the account of a divine call. In this case, it is not a divine call into the Holy Ministry. That will come for Matthew. This is the call to discipleship. All believers in Jesus are called to discipleship. A disciple is one who follows Jesus in His discipline. That is, one who believes what He says, and walks in His way, doing as He says to do. Jesus puts it this way: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24; ESV).
So, when Jesus saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, He marched right up to him and said, you… “Follow me” (Matt. 9:9). And that is just what Matthew did. He rose… from his seat, yes, but then, this is nothing less than a spiritual resurrection! And he followed Jesus.
A couple of things to notice about this. What was Matthew doing at the time of Jesus’ call? Spiritually preparing himself to become a Christian? Doing good works to merit Jesus’ notice and qualify himself for the faith? Considering whether he might want to make his decision for Jesus to become his personal Lord and Savior? No, no, and no! He was sitting in the tax booth, charging people taxes! Now, in our nation, and in our political context, we also have some particular baggage when it comes to taxes. Still, we’d probably acknowledge their necessity. But what we have to understand about the days of our Lord’s earthly ministry in Israel, is that tax collector is virtually synonymous with sinner. Many tax collectors collected more than just taxes. Call it, “administrative fees.” And even if a tax collector happened to be honest, the fact remained, he was considered a turncoat. Who was he collecting taxes for? Our Roman overlords, that’s who.
So, it’s a safe bet, Matthew wasn’t sitting at the tax booth, thinking pious thoughts about salvation and living a godly life. He was a man of the world. Who, then, takes all the initiative in calling Matthew to faith? Christ alone. Christ. Alone. One minute, Matthew is all wrapped up in the stuff of this world. Mammon. Self. The next, Christ Jesus speaks, and by the power of His Word, the old Matthew dies, and the new man arises, now to live a new life. The life that Christ has given him. Christ’s life. Life in Christ. Life from Christ. Given by grace alone. No merit or worthiness in Matthew. Just the goodness and love and mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ for Matthew.
That is how it is for us, too, when Christ calls us to discipleship. To believe in Him and follow Him. For many of us, that happened at the baptismal font, when Jesus wrote God’s Name on us, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and poured His Spirit out on us, to give us life and faith in Jesus. For others, it resembles the call of Matthew. Wrapped up in the things of this world, and of Mammon, and of the self one minute, when suddenly a Word from the Lord slays the old man and raises to new resurrection life. Sometimes it takes many years of someone… or many someones… patiently and faithfully speaking the Word of Jesus before it sinks in. But then, it happens. Life. Faith. Repentance and the forgiveness of sins. Discipleship. Following Jesus.
But always by grace alone. By God’s gracious action on account of Christ. By the Spirit working in the Means of Grace, the Word and the Sacraments. Not our work. Not our decision. Christ’s work. Christ’s decision, for us. “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit” (John 15:16). So says Jesus. St. Paul echoes Him in a passage you know and love: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph. 2:8-9). You do nothing to acquire life and faith for yourself. How could you? You are born spiritually dead. You can’t do anything. Until God gives you life. But then He does, and now what? Paul continues: “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (v. 10).
God does it all. Christ does it all. And when we recognize that… that it is all pure, undeserved gift… that we bring nothing to the table before God but sin and death… that we cannot by our own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord, or come to Him (much less do good works for Him), but the Holy Spirit has to call us by the Gospel… that our salvation, from start to finish, is all His work (Divine Monergism, we call it… God’s work alone)... then we rightly number ourselves with the tax collectors and sinners (like Matthew) who are… where?... Reclining at Table with Jesus. That’s where we want to be. Because, if we don’t believe or confess that… if we want to reserve at least some little part of salvation for ourselves… a little merit… a little “at least I’m not like them”... even just a turn of the will; i.e. a decision for Jesus… then we’ve numbered ourselves with the Pharisees. And where are they? They are excluded from the Table. Excluded from the party. That is, they exclude themselves, because they don’t want to be part of that crowd, and they don’t want to be at the mercy of Jesus, and don’t think they need Him. They think they’re spiritually healthy. At least healthier than these poor so and sos. They don’t need a Physician… much less a Savior from sin. So, they don’t know what this means: “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice… I came not to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matt. 9:13). Let that never be true of us. When it is true, root it out. Rebuke it in yourself. Repent of it. And come to the party. Come to your place at the Table with this group of sinners. And rejoice that Jesus loves you, and has saved you.
Anyway, Matthew understood that. The Lord Jesus gave him to understand it. That He desires to have mercy even on Matthew. That He came to call even Matthew. And so, you. He desires to have mercy even on you. He came to call even you.
And what about those good works He prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them? This is a great thing. In addition to our call to discipleship (which is the main call… the call to be a Christian), He extends other calls. We call them vocations. Not just our day jobs, although working for a living is one way we fulfill them. Vocations are the various ways we’re called to live out our discipleship in our various stations in life. For example, all of us are called to be members of our family and community. We’re called to do that faithfully in Christ. All of us here are called to be Church members. We’re called to do that faithfully in Christ. These are vocations. Some are called to be spouses. And some are called to be single. All are called to live in chastity, because, whatever we’re called to do, we’re called to do it faithfully in Christ. And to repent when we mess it up (as we will, and often do), and be forgiven, and get back to it. Some are called to be parents, and some are not, but are rather called to support children and families in other ways. And whichever we’re called to, we’re called to do it faithfully in Christ. Some are sons. Some are daughters. Some are grandparents, and some are grandchildren. All are called to friendship and kindness and Christian love. That is, to be good neighbors. Because we’re in Christ, and this is what Christ has prepared beforehand for us to do.
But our calls are specific to us. Matthew (or Levi, as he is named elsewhere) was called to be an Apostle. That call takes place in the very next chapter of this Gospel. An Apostle is one officially sent to speak and act in the stead of the one who sent him. You and I are not called to be that, but we’re sure thankful that Matthew was. And he was called to be an Evangelist. Not just someone who does evangelism, but a Spirit-inspired writer of the Evangel, the Gospel that bears Matthew’s name. We’re thankful for that vocation as well. We give thanks for the vocations that others have, even as we give thanks for our own, because God cares for us through those vocations.
Some are called to be pastors. Ministers of the Gospel. Not everyone is a minister. A priest, yes. Every Christian is a priest, as Peter writes, You are a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9). But some Christians are called to be pastors as well as priests. Undershepherds of the Good Shepherd, Jesus. Sheepdogs, if you will. How do you know if you’re called to be a pastor? This is going to sound very unspiritual, but it’s the truth. A congregation sends you a packet of papers, calling you, in the Name of Jesus, to be their pastor. Okay, there’s more to it than that. There is the noble desire, and the qualifications St. Paul enumerates in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1. There is the limitation of the pastoral office to men (1 Cor. 14; 1 Tim. 2). There is the study and preparation. There is examination and certification. But none of that is yet a call. I was not called into the ministry until one night in April 2006, when Dr. Fickenscher stood in the pulpit of Kramer Chapel at the Seminary in Fort Wayne, and called out, “Jonathon Krenz, Epiphany Lutheran Church, Dorr, Michigan, English District,” and handed me a packet of papers. On the basis of those papers, I was ordained 20 years ago this month, 10 years of which I served the saints in Dorr, until you sent me a packet of papers, and I had to decide whether to stay in Michigan or come here. Because both calls were from God, mediated by His Church. But I couldn’t keep both. It’s agonizing, but that’s the call.
So, Christ Lutheran Church in Coos Bay, Oregon, sent me a packet of papers. And I had to decide. I had divine freedom to decide. God certainly knew what I would do all along, but I did not. And my family did not. And you did not, nor did the saints in Coos Bay. What would have happened here if I had taken that call? You would have been fine. Oh, there would have been sadness here, and hopefully some celebration to cap off a beautiful decade together. (By the way, there is undoubtedly sadness in Coos Bay today, and we must pray for our brothers and sisters as they start up the process again.) But had I taken the call, the circuit visitor would have come, and a vacancy pastor would have cared for you, and you would have formed a call committee, and the district would have given you names, and you would have whittled down those names, and sent some blessed man a packet of papers, and he would have had a decision to make. Maybe he’d take it. Or maybe you’d be issuing a second call. Or a third, or fourth. It happens. But before you knew it, you’d be calling another man “Pastor.” And it would be good. Because, while it would be a different guy, it would be the same ministry. The same Jesus. The same Gospel and Sacraments. And the Church goes on.
Because this is the thing about vocations. Vocations are God’s masks whereby He acts for His people and provides for our needs. People come and go. God remains forever. You are called to be a disciple of God. Of Christ. Not any particular pastor. I’m thankful I get to stay for a while. God only knows how long. But God will never leave you. Jesus Christ will never leave you. Never forget that.
Like Matthew, you’ve been called to be a disciple of Jesus. To follow Him. That will take you through Good Friday and the cross, to be sure. But where do you end up when you follow in His train? The resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
