The yes that never goes

Jesus asked the religious leaders a question in the form of a tiny story.

A man had two sons. He went to the first and said, son, go and work in the vineyard today. The son said, I will not. But later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second son and said the same thing. That one answered, I go, sir. And he never went.

Which of the two, Jesus asked, did the will of his father? Even his opponents had to answer: the first.

Then he turned the story loose on them: the tax collectors and prostitutes, the people who told God no with their whole lives and then turned around, are entering the kingdom ahead of you, the professionals of yes who never move.

This parable is the hinge of the entire Jesus 40, so let it read you for a moment. Where are you the second son? Where have you been saying yes, to God, to your spouse, to your kids, to your own conscience, in words, in intentions, in likes and shares and someday plans, without your feet ever leaving the porch?

Jesus pressed this point over and over, because it was evidently the failure mode he feared most in religious people:

Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and do not do what I tell you?

Luke 6:46

And he warned that at the end, some who said all the right words will hear him say, I never knew you, while quiet people who simply did the will of his Father walk in ahead of them. In his kingdom, a late-blooming no that turns into action outranks a polished yes that never does.

The good news hiding in the story: the first son's ugly start did not disqualify him. Yesterday's no can still become today's went.

Tomorrow we begin eight days on his plainest commands, starting with the one everyone finds hardest.