“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not do them is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the stream broke against it, immediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great.” (ESV)
Luke 6:46–49
“This is definitely far enough up the beach.” Or so, Jason suggested, as we pitched our tent at the bottom of a hundred-foot high cliff. “The tide will never come up this far!”
We had just returned to San Francisco from a six-month deployment to the Persian Gulf, where we had been fighting “The Mother of all Battles.” Along the way, we had encountered Iranian missile batteries, nuclear coolant leaks, armed smugglers, fleeing refugees, the threatening pings of Russian subs, and shipmates who had severed a wide variety of appendages. To top it off, on the way home, a whale chose to do battle against our four propeller shafts (260,000 shp). Let’s just say, the cleanup was not fun.
So here we were, camping along the beach at Point Reyes National Seashore, just north of the Bay. Having survived the dangers of deployment, surely we could relax along the pristine beach for one night. We had hiked in twelve miles to a solitary spot, just below the famous high sandstone cliffs that Sir Francis Drake had likened to the cliffs of Dover.
There were only two problems: 1) we had set our tent on a foundation of sand, and 2) we were not far enough away from the encroaching tide.
Towards midnight we awoke to find our tent moving. We were being swept out to sea. With a sandstone cliff behind us, we could not move to high ground. Scrambling in the darkness, we managed to escape the rapidly sinking tent, as I shoved our equipment into my now-thoroughly soaked backpack. Looking around, we saw only one way out. If we could somehow get around a massive rock that jutted straight into the ocean, we could escape to a part of the beach where the cliffs gave way; there, we could be safe on higher ground. With perfect timing, Jason managed to follow a withdrawing wave and then traverse the jutting rock before making it to safety on the other side. I, however, was weighed down by the heavy backpack. My timing was not perfect. By the time I reached the jut of the rock, the incoming waves of the torrent had crashed over me, sweeping me off of my feet and pulling me away from land. With one hand, I clawed the sandy ocean floor, but nothing held. Luckily, I managed to plunge my hiking stick further down beneath the sand into a small crack in the very foundation of the rock. The foundation held.
Slowly, and looking much like a crawling sea turtle, I pulled myself to safety. Thoroughly soaked and our tent lost, we spent a fitful night around a fire trying to locate clothes that had been scattered far up the cliffs by the powerful waves. The next day, we hiked twelve miles back to the trailhead—without socks or shoes. Lesson learned.
In our lesson for today from Luke 6:46-49, Jesus would have us imagine a somewhat similar scenario. The Greek term often translated here as “torrent” or “stream” literally means a river or body of water (potomos) (v. 48). The image Luke wants us to picture is of an uncontrollable storm surge, swollen by the wind and rain. Of course, living along the Mississippi and St. Croix rivers, we know the incredible power of water. We need only look as far as Taylors Falls to see how age-old rocks can provide a firm foundation against a river surge. When I was being swept out to sea, it was only the solid rock that provided a handhold against the powerful undercurrent. The sand was less than useless. Our tent was top-of-the-line and rain-resistant; it was also weighed down with two 20-something male bodies and a backpack full of equipment. Yet all of this was not enough to keep the tent from being undercut and swiftly swept out to sea.
As a good teacher, Jesus knew his audience. Luke tells us that many of the disciples present at the Sermon on the Plain had come from Judea and “from the coast of Tyre and Sidon” (v. 17). Those living in this coastal region knew the power of storm surges from the Mediterranean. Doubtless, Jesus’ listeners would have passed by some of the hundreds of houses built upon towering rocks that still dot this region. Those disciples coming from Tyre and Sidon would have traveled along the “Way of the Sea,” through modern Lebanon, where they would have passed by one such fort that keeps guard over this long-deserted route, even today. (See image #2).
It is important to remember that this passage in Luke comes at the end of Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain. In Luke 6:13, Jesus had chosen his apostles. He then spent time teaching them about what it really meant to be his followers (vv. 20-45). It is these teachings, these logoi in Greek, that we have been studying throughout this Lenten season. Coming, therefore, at the end of the Sermon on the Plain, here Jesus challenges his disciples not only to hear his words but to put them into practice. As the best of teachers, Jesus wraps up his fine lecture with a practical bent. Are his hearers—his disciples—going to do anything more than just sit back and be entertained? As the True Teacher, Jesus wants to ensure that his disciples are prepared to put into action the difficult logoi he has just given them.
Many of us remember singing the “House on the Rock” song from our days in Sunday School:
Oh, the rain came down, and the floods came up …
And the foolish man’s house went “splat!” [clap hands once] …
So build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ!
Regrettably, Sunday-School level familiarity does not always give the full picture. Jesus’ message in this parable is much more challenging. It is not so much that Jesus is the Rock, the foundation upon which we build our house (although he certainly is). In context, Jesus’ challenge to us is that true discipleship means putting these hard teachings into practice.
In the parable, both builders had taken the time to listen to Jesus. Both men may have called themselves disciples of Jesus (v.46). But only the man who took upon himself “to do” Jesus’ logoi had “dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock” (v. 48). In other words, this parable of the wise and foolish builders is a story of discipleship, in word and deed. Before leading his newly-appointed apostles into ministry, Jesus challenges those who call him “Lord, Lord” (v. 46). Do they have the courage to put these hard teachings into practice, as his disciples? And it takes courage, because Luke tells us that the wise disciple had to “dig down deep” to reach the bedrock. Jesus dares us to identify and dig out non-scriptural ideas, traditions, habits, and prejudices so we can build a strong foundation on the rock.
Another key point of this parable is that both “disciples” get pummeled by the same rising tide. Both men get hit by the brunt of the storm. That, in a way, is the message of this parable. Jesus is not saying that his Gospel will guarantee a ‘flood-less’ way out of life’s problems. As we have seen over this Lenten season, the truth is quite the opposite. Those who follow Him in the way of discipleship and “put into practice” (v.47) his logoi, will weep (v. 21), face exclusion (v. 22), have enemies (v. 27), need to forgive and be forgiven (v. 37), and are commanded to bear good fruit in this world (v. 43). Here, in this final teaching in the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus reminds us that the disciple who puts these teachings into practice will build himself a foundation that can survive the coming torrents. The rising tides will come, as many of these same disciples will discover at the Garden of Gethsemane (Luke 22). It is there, in the garden, that they will flee from the one whom they had been calling “Lord, Lord” for the previous three years.
The true disciple puts Jesus’ words into practice. As with most disciplines of life, whether biking or cooking, it is the practicing—the getting up again and again—that eventually results in strength and facility. Just as in life, the practice of putting Jesus’ words into action, though hard work, is what builds a foundation. Yet, as Jesus’ parable shows, it is the faithful disciple who ultimately benefits; when the waves come at midnight, his tent is grounded high up on a firm foundation. As the fifth-century church father Augustine (Serm. 179. 9) put it, “the lesson of the Lord is one easy to grasp. The wise man will hear, and, when he hears, will do, that is, will translate his impressions into actions.”
At the same time, Jesus solemnly reminds his listeners that the unwise builder also built a house, though one destined to become a “ruin.” This one did not put the logoi of Jesus into practice; he did not build a proper foundation. The word translated “ruin” occurs only this one time in the entire New Testament, which attests to its importance here. It literally means a “fissure” or a “rupture” that is difficult, if not impossible, to be put back together. That Jesus also calls the ruin of this man’s house—his life—“very great” (v. 49) is a reminder of the unfathomable value in which God views each human soul. The Good News is that Jesus has gone before us, as Perfect Man and Perfect Teacher. In his life and even in his death, Jesus exemplifies the very logoi that he taught in this Sermon on the Plain. While commanding us to discipleship, Jesus does not lead us in paths that He himself has not also trodden. This week, as we remember the Last Supper, the Garden, and the Crucifixion, we can also recall the ways Jesus lived out his own demanding teachings from Luke 6, even in the midst of such torrential sorrows. In Jesus, we have an example of what it means to walk the Kingdom life, though buffeted by the waves of life. What is more, by his death and resurrection Jesus invites and empowers us to become his partners on the long trail of discipleship—a life built upon the Rock.
Reflection Questions
- What “words” or “sayings” (logoi) do I find myself regularly “putting into practice” in my life (Luke 6:47)? How many of these are the logoi of our culture? How many are genuinely Gospel logoi? As a disciple of the Lord (v. 46), am I usually alert to the differences? As a disciple, am I willing to “dig down deep” (v. 48) in order to excavate non-biblical thoughts and practices from my life?
- Did any of the “torrents/floods” of 2020 lay bare my true foundations, for good or ill (v. 48, 49)? As we end the season of Lent, do I find myself holding more to a ‘flood-less’ Gospel or a Gospel that expects that floods will come? How can I reorient myself during this Easter season more towards the biblical portrait of discipleship we have seen in the Sermon on the Plain in Luke 6?
- In what ways does Jesus—as True Man and True Teacher—exemplify the “sayings” logoi we have studied in Luke 6? During this Holy Week, spend time visualizing Jesus from His triumphant entry into Jerusalem, to the Crucifixion, through the Resurrection appearances. Think of His interactions with others, both the disciples he had chosen here in Luke (v. 12) and those enemies who ultimately killed him. In what specific ways did Jesus, our Perfect Teacher and Lord, live out his own lessons from the Sermon on the Plain in His final days on earth?
- Lastly, unlike our Lord and Teacher, we are not perfect. None of us will perfectly follow these sayings in the Sermon on the Plain (Luke 6). Yet, as Jesus explains, only the disciple that made an effort “to do” the logoi of the Lord had a foundation that held fast when the torrent came. Listen to one (or both) of the following renditions of the song “He will hold me fast.” As you listen, think of how a renewed focus on daily discipleship can help us more fully rest in the knowledge that Jesus “will hold us fast,” by His grace, when the waves of life arrive.
Keith & Kristyn Getty – He Will Hold Me Fast
Shane & Shane: He Will Hold Me Fast