My hope is that with the new year many of us are involving ourselves in Bible reading plans. Perhaps you long to read through the entirety of the Scripture this year or within the next two years. And if you do that, one of the things that you’ll see again and again in the Old Testament is that there are repeated promises and a growing anticipation of more to come. It’s not an overstatement to say that when one considers the types, shadows, and prophetic utterances, there is promise and anticipation on most every page of the Old Testament.
Now, alongside these types, shadows, and prophecies, you have the story of a people gripped by sin. One man kills his brother, violence escalates to the point that the earth is destroyed in judgment, God calls out a people for himself, covenanting with them to be their God, but they go on to profane his name in front of the nations as they worship idols and disobey the Lord, their king commits adultery and murder (and he’s their best king!), and on and on and on, until the Lord sends a foreign people to conquer and enslave them.
But it’s here where the prophecies and promises found in the Old Testament come to the fore. Ezekiel pictures God’s people, who have been driven out of their land into areas and lands throughout the known world, as sheep who have been scattered. And the Lord declares through him that he will seek them out and gather them, declaring, “As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered, so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. And I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land” (Ezek 34:12-13). God is the shepherd who will come, call, and gather his sheep to himself. Isaiah similarly speaks of the Lord gathering his people who have been cast throughout the earth in judgment, but he uses the metaphor not of a shepherd calling his sheep but of a husband coming for his unfaithful wife. Isaiah writes, “For your Maker is your husband, the LORD of hosts is his name. . . . For a brief moment I deserted you, but with great compassion I will gather you” (Is 54:5-7). Yet clearly the Lord is not coming merely to physically gather his people and take them from one geographical location to another. He is coming to cleanse them, forgive them, and transform them.
Through the prophet Jeremiah, the Lord famously declares that days are coming when he’ll make a new covenant with his people, not like the covenant he made with them when he brought them out of Egypt (the covenant they broke), he’ll put his law in their hearts, forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more (Jer 31:31-34).
Now, if you put these amazing promises together, there is anticipation of the day when the Lord himself will come to his people, gather them as a shepherd gathering scattered sheep or a husband bringing back to himself his unfaithful wife, and he will make a new covenant with them, purify them, forgive their sin, and transform them. It is into this storyline, this world of expectation, that Jesus comes. Therefore, you would think that as Jesus shows himself fulfilling these expectations and bringing about the very promises of God that those most steeped in the Old Testament Scriptures would be the first to believe. But instead, as John notes in his gospel, he came to his own and his own people did not receive him.
And what we find in Matthew 9:1-17 is the collision of these realities. These verses are linked together by the thread of confrontation and attack. Basically it seems that regardless of what Jesus does, he faces attack. And his attackers are varied. In verses 1-8, after Jesus tells a paralytic that his sins are forgiven, he bears the attack of the scribes. In 9-13, as Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners, he bears the attack of Pharisees. And then in verses 14-17 it is John’s disciples that attack Jesus for his disciples not fasting like the Pharisees and they do.
But just as these sections of Matthew’s gospel are held together by this theme of confrontation and attack, so are they held together by showing us that Jesus is the promised one who has come to fulfill the promises that God made through the prophets. Therefore, as we look at this text this morning, it will let us see again who Jesus is, what his mission is, and how his coming has changed the world. Specifically these verses show us that Jesus, as the God-man, great shepherd, and bridegroom, came to bring forgiveness of sins, gather sinners to himself, and fulfill the new covenant promises God had made to his people through the prophets. Let me try now to show this to you one step at a time. First, we see in verses 1-8 that Jesus, as the God-man, came to bring forgiveness of sins.
Matthew 9:1-8 tells us the story that we refer to as the “healing of the paralytic.” In fact, if you look at the heading in the pew Bible for these verses, it’s just that—“Jesus heals a paralytic.” Matthew doesn’t include the details of the story that the friends of this paralytic man tried to get him to Jesus, couldn’t because of the crowd, and then decide to lower him through the roof. But the story is the same. Matthew simply leaves out those details that many of us probably know well.
Matthew gets to the main event in the story. After noting that some people brought a paralytic man to Jesus, Matthew notes, “And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven’” (v. 2). These words by Jesus, I believe, communicate to us that not only did Jesus know that this man’s paralysis was tied to the man’s sin, but it also shows us that the paralytic knew that his paralysis was tied to his sin.
Now, before explaining this, let me note again as I did a couple of weeks ago that not all sickness is tied directly to sin. In fact, most sickness is not directly tied to sin. Most of the time when you get a cold or the flu, it’s just because we live in a fallen world that has been subject to the curse, disease, and death because of Adam’s sin in the garden. And in that sense, all sickness is indirectly tied to sin. Sickness exists because sin entered the world through Adam. This indirect connection, I think, accounts for most sickness.
However, there are some occasions where sickness is directly tied to sin. Again, as I noted a couple weeks back, we see this with the Corinthians. Paul tells them that because of their sin in regards to the Lord’s Supper, some of them were sick and some had died. That is a case of sickness being directly tied to sin. And I think this man’s paralysis was a case of sickness or disability that was directly tied to sin. Moreover, I think the man knew it and it weighed on him every day of his life, with his sin ever before him, and his guilt pressing down on him.
Now, why would I say that? I say it because Jesus’s first words to the man are: “Take heart, my son.” I mean, think about that for a minute. What if the man came to Jesus, brought by his friends, and he had no thought about his own sin. All he was thinking about was the fact that he was paralyzed and wanted to walk. What if any mention of his sin would have been a complete surprise to him. If that were the case, I don’t think Jesus’ first words would have been, “Take heart, my son.” “Take heart, my son,” after all, says, “Don’t worry, you can finally be at rest. I’m going to address what’s weighing on your heart.” But following those words, Jesus doesn’t heal the man. Rather, he says, “Your sins are forgiven.”1
I think that when this man heard these words, he breathed a sigh of relief, knew that Jesus knew what had been weighing on him, and was addressing his real need. Christ had seen what few if any others had, namely, the sin that was bearing on this man, crippling him more than his paralysis ever could.
But not everyone was relieved to hear Jesus’ words. In fact, Matthew tells us that the scribes began saying among themselves that Jesus was blaspheming by claiming that he had the authority to forgive sins. After all, the Old Testament makes clear that only God can forgive sins since he is the ultimate one against whom sin is committed. Therefore, when Jesus claims to be able to forgive sins, he is both exalting himself to the level of God and bringing God to his level in the eyes of these scribes, and however you slice it, that’s blasphemy.
Jesus, however, handled this situation masterfully. Matthew writes, “But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, ‘Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or the say, ‘Rise and walk’?” (vv. 4-5). Now, it is of course easier to heal someone than to forgive their sins, for only God can forgive sins, and the scribes had read of men like Elijah and Elisha healing. But Jesus didn’t ask which is easier to do but which is easier to say. And it’s easier to say, “Your sins are forgiven” than it is to say, “Rise and walk,” because you can’t prove whether the person actually was forgiven, but you can prove whether the command to rise and walk is effective—based on whether the man rises and walks or not.
Then, Jesus declares, “But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins . . . rise, pick up your bed and go home” and Matthew tells us, “And he rose and went home” (vv.6-7). The point is, if Jesus had actually been blaspheming to say to the man, “Your sins are forgiven,” then surely God would not have granted him the ability to heal. And on the other side, if God granted him the ability to heal, then we should assume he wasn’t blaspheming but has the authority to forgive sins—which the crowd recognizes according to verse 8.
Consequently this section shows us again that Jesus is the God-man. The crowd was right in verse 8 to be afraid and awed at a man having the authority to forgive sins because Jesus is a man. But he is also God, the Son. He is the God-man. And he came to forgive sins.
And here’s the glorious application for us. Just as this paralytic was truly forgiven of his sins at Jesus’ declaration of forgiveness, so are we who confess our sins, repent of our sins, and trust in the crucified and risen Lord as our hope of forgiveness. This is what God promised through Jeremiah. He would forgive us our sins and remember them no more. By that the Lord doesn’t mean that you’re forgiven, but you better keep reminding yourself of what you’ve done, keep shedding tears about it, or keep beating yourself up over it. He means you’re forgiven, and there’s nothing for you to do to earn or secure that forgiveness. But this doesn’t mean your forgiveness and mine is without cost. We’re forgiven freely because of the great cost bore by the one who said, “Your sins are forgiven” in our text—the crucified and risen Lord Jesus Christ, who bore the full payment in his body for our sins. There’s no atonement to make year after year, no annual sacrifices to be brought to the altar, but full forgiveness bought through the life, death, and resurrection of the God-man, Jesus Christ. So, if you’ve been waiting as eagerly to be free of guilt as the paralytic in our story seemed to be (based on Jesus’ response, “Take heart, my son”) then rejoice in the good news that feels too good to be true yet most certainly is. As this story reminds us, Jesus, the God-man, came to bring forgiveness of sins. Second:
As Jesus goes on from his encounter with the scribes, he comes upon another confrontation. First, he calls Matthew, who was a tax collector, to be one of his disciples, and Matthew follows him. And then Jesus goes to Matthew’s house, where the text tells us “many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples” (v. 10)
Now, tax collectors were already a despised group among the Jews, both because they collected taxes (perhaps above and beyond what Rome demanded) and because they were seen as making themselves allies with the oppressor. If you could imagine some enemy nation overtaking us and then one of our own countrymen employing himself by working for that oppressing nation, demanding taxes from us. That’s who Matthew had been. That’s who these tax-collecting friends were.
In addition, with so much mingling with pagan Gentiles in Roman government, they had surely violated dietary laws and were considered unclean sinners. And these people were in Matthew’s house as well.
Now, among the Pharisees, the thought was that when God’s promised Messiah came (i.e. when the Good Shepherd came to seek for the lost sheep and gather them to himself), he would come for his righteous ones. He would come, and those who were righteous would be rewarded. But now, Jesus was sitting there in Matthew’s house, hanging out with clearly unrighteous people. Thus, the Pharisees said to Jesus’ disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” (v. 11).
Once more, though, Jesus knew what they were saying and answered, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners” (vv. 12-13).
Now, let’s start with the Old Testament quotation first: “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” That quotation is from Hosea 6:6. In Hosea 6, the prophet was pointing out to the religious leaders of his day that though they could point to all the religious rituals they were going through, they were actually unrighteous. They had lost the heart of what it meant to obey the Lord. They lacked mercy, compassion, and love, and they were merely going through the external actions of religion. They thought they were righteous and they were quite unrighteous.
When Jesus tells the Pharisees to go and learn what this means, he’s telling them that they are these very kinds of people. They point to certain external religious practices in their lives that make them think they’re righteous, but they lack mercy, compassion, and love. They think they’re righteous, but they are most unrighteous.
Furthermore, God’s promise to come and gather his scattered sheep to himself was a declaration to come and call sinners to himself. Again, the Lord’s promise wasn’t simply to gather his sheep, moving them from one location to another, but to gather them to himself by calling sinners to repent of their sin, come to him in faith, and find forgiveness. Consequently, to become a true follower of the Lord means that you must first realize you’re in need. To be forgiven requires that you first realize you’re a sinner. Or, as Jesus puts it, to be healed means first realizing that you’re sick. Those who think they’re well think they have no need of physician.
But the reality is that we’re all sick in this sense. We’re all sinners in need of forgiveness and salvation. And this is key, if you rejoice in being reminded that your sins are forgiven through faith in the crucified and risen Lord, then it is imperative that you also realize that Jesus has commissioned us as his church to take that good news to others, making them disciples of Christ as well.
You see, something that can happen is that once we become followers of Christ and our lives begin to be shaped and changed by the power of the Holy Spirit, we can sometimes think of ourselves as wholly different than the sinner down the street. In fact, we may even find ourselves not wanting to be with those “sinners” and instead with other believers. And as good as fellowship with brothers and sisters is—and as needed as it is in our lives—the Lord has also commanded us to go to unconverted sinners with the gospel, even as Christ came to us.
So, if you’ve clearly heard this morning in your heart the message that you are truly forgiven of your sins, then I want us to clearly hear the message as well that our shepherd commands us to go and gather his sheep to himself. Christ wants us to arm ourselves with the gospel and go be with sinners for the express purpose of seeing them come to faith in Christ and find the forgiveness we know. Let us not be those who refuse to be around “tax collector and sinners,” nor be those whose lives look no different, but rather be those who go to sinners with the gospel consistently, in light of who our Lord is, what he has done, and what he has commanded us to do. Finally,
I’ve mentioned the life, death, and resurrection of Christ throughout this sermon because it is the foundation of our forgiveness and the good news that we are to take to sinners. But to this point in our text, the work of Christ and the transforming work of the Holy Spirit has been largely assumed but not at the fore. I think that changes in verses 14-17.
In these verses, there is one more confrontation. This time with the disciples of John. At this time, John is in prison, but some of his followers are perhaps growing suspicious of Jesus and the attention he’s getting, so they approach him, asking, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” (v. 14). This question kind of assumes their superiority. After all, fasting was a practice of going without food, typically for a day, in order to reflect your mourning that things aren’t as the Lord intends, as a way of longing for something more, and as a way of showing your desperation for the Lord to set things right. You would express in essence that you long for these things more than food itself. So, if this is obviously a good thing, why wouldn’t Jesus’ disciples fast?
Jesus answers, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast” (v. 15).
With this statement, Jesus says much. Mainly, he is showing that the mourning during the OT times for God to come to his people and set things right is being answered. God has indeed come in the person of the Son. He is right there with them. He is the promised bridegroom. Consequently, you can’t mourn in the form of fasting when your fasting has been answered. You don’t weep for God to come to his people and then keep weeping when he has come. You rejoice.
However, Jesus acknowledges that there will be a time when he is gone from his people, and then his followers will fast. And indeed that time is now. Christ has ascended back to the Father’s right hand, is gone from us, and we long for his return. Consequently, we can and should fast on occasion, mourning that things aren’t as the Lord intends, as a way of longing for something more, and as a way of showing our desperation for the Lord to set things right, which he will do at Christ’s return.
Yet, Jesus acknowledges that the fast when he is taken away will be different. He uses too illustrations to show this. In the first, he says that you can’t take on unshrunk piece of cloth to patch up a torn garment because the unshrunk patch will shrink and tear at the garment. In the second, he says that you can’t put new wine into old wineskins because the new wine will continue to ferment and force the wineskin to expand, but if the wineskin has already been expanded and is old and brittle, it will burst. Rather, there must be new wineskins for the new wine.
Jesus’ point is that the religious structures and practices of the day that anticipated the coming of the bridegroom will change. Those old wineskins aren’t sufficient because they all longed for the coming of the bridegroom. But now that he has come, everything has changed. We don’t sacrifice bulls and goats anymore because the lamb has come and been sacrificed. We don’t build and worship in a temple anymore because the true temple has come and dwelt among us. We don’t have priests intercede on our behalf anymore because our great high priest is interceding for us at the Father’s right hand. Jesus has changed everything because the OT promises find their fulfillment in him.
This means that even fasting has changed. We fast and mourn for God to set things right, but we fast and mourn in light of knowing that he has done everything necessary through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ to bring full salvation to his people. We fast in certain hope. We mourn, knowing that we have reason after reason to rejoice. We can’t mourn in the same way as those on the other side of Christ’s coming, for we can look, and know, and sing about his work. We may acknowledge that sorrow like sea billows roll, but we do it acknowledging that because of the work of Christ, our sadness takes place in the midst of all being well with our souls. Therefore, let us this morning, worship the Lord Jesus Christ, delight in the forgiveness he brings, and go and obey the bridegroom by seeking to make disciples of all the nations. Let that be our corporate commitment shown in our coming now to the table. Amen.