Bulletins - New Life Church of the Nazarene Boswell

Where He Leads I'll Follow
- - Exodus 17:1–7NKJV
Take My Life, and Let it Be
- - Philippians 2:1–13NKJV
Jesus, Lord to Me
Matthew 21:23–32 NKJV
23 Now when He came into the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people confronted Him as He was teaching, and said, “By what authority are You doing these things? And who gave You this authority?” 24 But Jesus answered and said to them, “I also will ask you one thing, which if you tell Me, I likewise will tell you by what authority I do these things: 25 The baptism of John—where was it from? From heaven or from men?” And they reasoned among themselves, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ He will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ 26 But if we say, ‘From men,’ we fear the multitude, for all count John as a prophet.” 27 So they answered Jesus and said, “We do not know.” And He said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things. 28 “But what do you think? A man had two sons, and he came to the first and said, ‘Son, go, work today in my vineyard.’ 29 He answered and said, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he regretted it and went. 30 Then he came to the second and said likewise. And he answered and said, ‘I go, sir,’ but he did not go. 31 Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said to Him, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Assuredly, I say to you that tax collectors and harlots enter the kingdom of God before you. 32 For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him; but tax collectors and harlots believed him; and when you saw it, you did not afterward relent and believe him.
Who Has the Right to Lead My Life?
There is something in most of us that doesn't particularly like being told what to do.
We may learn to hide it better as we get older. We may become more polite about it. But somewhere inside of us there is still that little voice that says,
“Who says?”
You probably remember saying something like that when you were growing up.
“Clean your room.”
Who says?
“Be home by ten.”
Who says?
“Turn that television off and go to bed.”
Who says?
Of course, when you're a child, asking “Who says?” usually isn't a request for additional information. You're not conducting research into the organizational structure of the household.
You're challenging authority.
Who has the right to tell me what to do?
And I'm not sure we ever completely outgrow that question.
We just learn to ask it differently.
As adults, we want to make our own decisions. We want to determine our own direction. We want to decide what is important, what is right, what is worth pursuing, and ultimately how we're going to live our lives.
And then Jesus comes along and says two words that challenge all of that:
“Follow Me.”
Those words sound simple.
But there is an enormous claim contained within them.
Jesus isn't saying, “Listen to some of My ideas.”
He isn't saying, “Consider My teachings and use whichever ones work for you.”
He says:
“Follow Me.”
Which means sooner or later every disciple has to wrestle with a very personal question:
Who has the right to lead my life?
That's really the question underneath our passage this morning.
By the time we reach Matthew 21, Jesus has entered Jerusalem. The crowds have shouted, “Hosanna!” He has entered the temple, driven out those who were buying and selling, and overturned the tables.
And now the religious leaders have had enough.
They confront Jesus:
“By what authority are You doing these things? And who gave You this authority?”
In other words:
“Jesus, who gave You the right?”
Who gave You the right to come in here and overturn our tables?
Who gave You the right to challenge our way of doing things?
Who gave You the right to tell us something needs to change?
And before we're too hard on them, maybe we ought to recognize something uncomfortable.
Their question can become our question too.
It's one thing to welcome Jesus when He comforts us.
It's another thing when He starts overturning tables.
It's one thing to call Jesus Savior when we need forgiveness.
It's another thing to call Him Lord when He begins challenging our priorities, attitudes, relationships, habits, and plans.
Over these past several weeks, we've been asking what it means to follow Jesus.
But all those messages eventually bring us here.
If Jesus really is who we say He is…
if He really is the Christ…
if we really intend to follow Him…
then eventually we have to answer:
Does Jesus actually have the right to lead my life?
Not just Sunday morning.
Not just the parts where I already agree with Him.
My life.
And Jesus answers that question by telling a story about two sons.
One says “no” and eventually obeys.
The other says “yes” and never does.
And somewhere in that little story, Jesus invites us to ask:
Which one looks most like me?
We Like Jesus' Authority Until It Challenges Ours
The religious leaders ask Jesus:
“By what authority are You doing these things? And who gave You this authority?”
On the surface, you can understand the question.
Jesus has entered the temple. He has overturned tables. Now He's standing there teaching.
But Jesus knows there's more happening here than an honest theological question.
These men aren't really trying to discover the truth about Jesus.
They're trying to decide what to do with Jesus.
And there's a difference.
There's nothing wrong with asking questions of God.
David asked questions.
Job asked questions.
The disciples certainly asked questions.
God isn't threatened by sincere questions.
But sometimes what sounds like a question is really resistance wearing a respectable disguise.
Sometimes when we say, “Lord, why?” what we really mean is, “Lord, I'm not doing that unless You convince me.”
Sometimes when we say, “I need to pray about it,” what we really mean is, “I'm hoping God changes His mind.”
And sometimes we keep asking questions because as long as we're asking questions, we don't have to surrender.
Jesus knows exactly what's happening.
So He answers their question with one of His own:
“The baptism of John—where was it from? From heaven or from men?”
Jesus isn't avoiding their question.
He's exposing their hearts.
John had called people to repentance. He had prepared the way for the Messiah.
So Jesus essentially says:
“Before we talk about My authority, let's talk about what you did with the truth God already gave you.”
Suddenly the religious leaders are trapped.
If they say John's ministry came from heaven, Jesus will ask:
“Why then did you not believe him?”
But if they say John's ministry was merely human, they're afraid of the crowd because the people regarded John as a prophet.
Notice what's missing from their conversation.
They never ask:
“What is true?”
They're asking:
“What answer works best for us?”
Their concern isn't truth.
Their concern is maintaining control.
And that's where this passage begins getting uncomfortably close to us.
Because one of the great struggles of discipleship is our desire to follow Jesus without surrendering control to Jesus.
We want Jesus as Savior.
We want Jesus when we're hurting.
We want Jesus when we're afraid.
We want Jesus when we need forgiveness.
And thank God, He meets us in all those places.
But Jesus is also Lord.
And Lord is more than a religious title we attach to His name.
Lord means He has authority.
There will be moments when His Word confronts an attitude I've been defending.
There will be moments when He tells me to forgive someone I'd rather resent.
There will be moments when He tells me to love someone I'd rather avoid.
There will be moments when He puts His finger on something in my life and says:
“That needs to change.”
It's easy to follow Jesus when Jesus is going where I already wanted to go.
The real test comes when Jesus turns in a direction I wasn't planning to take.
It's easy to say, “Jesus, take the wheel,” until He actually turns the wheel.
Then suddenly we're reaching across the console saying, “Lord, I'm not sure this is the road we want.”
But that's where discipleship becomes real.
And there's a particular warning here for those of us who have been around church for a long time.
The people challenging Jesus aren't outsiders.
They're the chief priests and elders.
They know Scripture.
They know the traditions.
They know how worship is supposed to work.
They've spent their lives around the things of God.
And yet it's possible to become so comfortable with the things of God that we stop allowing God Himself to challenge us.
We can know the hymns.
Know the Bible stories.
Know exactly how church is supposed to happen.
And still quietly tell Jesus:
“You may come this far, but no farther.”
So perhaps the question is:
Where does His authority end in my life?
Is there a habit I've protected?
A grudge I've justified?
A relationship I've refused to surrender?
A plan I've already decided God needs to bless?
Because Jesus doesn't come into our lives simply to rearrange a few pieces of furniture.
Sometimes He overturns tables.
Not because He wants to destroy us.
But because He loves us too much to leave untouched the things that keep us from becoming who His grace is calling us to be.
The religious leaders couldn't see that.
They were so concerned about protecting their authority that they were missing the One standing before them.
And that sets the stage for the story Jesus tells next.
Because Jesus is about to show us that the answer we give with our mouths matters far less than the answer we give with our lives.
Saying “Yes” to Jesus Isn't the Same as Following Jesus
Jesus tells them a remarkably simple story.
A father has two sons.
He goes to the first and says:
“Son, go, work today in my vineyard.”
The son answers:
“I will not.”
You have to give him credit for honesty.
No pretending.
No excuse.
He simply says:
“No.”
But then something changes.
Matthew says:
“But afterward he regretted it and went.”
Something happens in this son's heart.
He reconsiders.
He changes his mind.
And most importantly, he changes his direction.
Then the father goes to the second son and gives him exactly the same instruction.
And this son answers:
“I go, sir.”
That's a good answer.
It's respectful.
It sounds exactly right.
If you heard the responses and had to guess which son would end up in the vineyard, you'd probably choose the second.
The first says:
“No.”
The second says:
“Yes, sir.”
But Jesus says the second son did not go.
Then He asks:
“Which of the two did the will of his father?”
They answer:
“The first.”
And with that little story, Jesus puts His finger on something every follower of Christ needs to hear:
There is a difference between saying the right thing and surrendering our lives to God.
The second son knew the right answer.
He sounded obedient.
But his feet never followed his mouth.
And church people need to be especially careful here because we know how to say the right things.
We know the songs.
We know the Scriptures.
We know how to pray.
We know Jesus is Lord.
We know we're supposed to forgive.
We know we're supposed to love our neighbor.
We know the answers.
But Jesus doesn't ask:
“Which son gave the best answer?”
He asks:
“Which one did the will of his father?”
Following Jesus has never been simply about knowing the right answer.
It's about allowing the grace of God to change the direction of our lives.
And that's what I love about the first son.
Because his story begins with “no.”
Maybe some of us know something about that.
Maybe God has spoken and we've said no.
Maybe not out loud.
But we've said it with our lives.
“No, Lord, I'm not ready.”
“No, Lord, I'm not forgiving them.”
“No, Lord, I'm not changing that.”
“No, Lord, I have my own plans.”
And here's the good news buried in this little parable:
Your first answer does not have to be your final answer.
You may have spent years running from God.
That doesn't have to be your final answer.
You may have made choices you deeply regret.
That doesn't have to be your final answer.
The first son said no.
But afterward, he changed his mind and went.
That's repentance.
Repentance isn't simply feeling bad about something we've done.
It's not beating ourselves up over yesterday.
Biblical repentance is a change of heart that produces a change of direction.
We were walking one way, and by the grace of God, we turn.
But notice something else.
Before this son ever changes his mind, the father has already called him.
The father doesn't have to come back and renegotiate the invitation.
The vineyard is still there.
The invitation still stands:
“Son, go, work today in my vineyard.”
That's grace.
Before the son changes his mind, the father has already called him.
Before the son gets anything right, the invitation has already been given.
Before obedience, there is grace.
That's important.
We don't obey Jesus so that He will love us.
We respond because His grace has already come looking for us.
Long before we ever thought about reaching toward God, God was reaching toward us.
That's what we mean when we talk about prevenient grace—the grace that goes before us.
Grace awakens.
Grace invites.
Grace convicts.
Grace calls.
Grace gives us the freedom to respond.
And when we've wandered away, grace whispers:
“You don't have to keep going this direction.”
But grace also calls for a response.
Jesus loves us where He finds us, but His love is too great to simply leave us there.
Grace calls us to turn.
Grace calls us to follow.
And that's why holiness isn't about proving how religious we are.
Holiness is what happens when more and more of our lives come under the loving lordship of Jesus Christ.
Not because we're trying to earn His love, but because we've discovered that the One who loves us completely can be trusted completely.
So perhaps the question is:
Is my “yes” to Jesus only something I say—or is it becoming the way I live?
Because the vineyard isn't filled with people who never said no.
It's filled with people who encountered grace, turned around, and went.
And thank God:
As long as Jesus is calling, it isn't too late to change your answer.
Grace Is Received by Those Willing to Respond
After the religious leaders answer that the first son did the will of his father, Jesus tells them what the story is really about.
And I imagine there was a moment when everybody wished Jesus had just stopped with the story.
Because He says:
“Assuredly, I say to you that tax collectors and harlots enter the kingdom of God before you.”
Those are strong words.
Especially when we remember who Jesus is talking to.
These are the chief priests and elders.
These are respected religious leaders.
These are the people everyone would have expected to be closest to the Kingdom of God.
And Jesus tells them that tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom ahead of them.
Why?
Not because their sin didn't matter.
Jesus isn't saying, “It doesn't matter how you live.”
The entire parable says the opposite.
Something changed.
Jesus explains:
“For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him; but tax collectors and harlots believed him.”
John came preaching:
“Repent.”
Turn around.
Prepare the way of the Lord.
And some of the people everyone assumed were farthest from God heard that message and responded.
They were like the first son.
Their lives may have said “no” to God for years.
But when grace reached them, they turned.
And then there were the religious leaders.
Their entire lives seemed to say:
“Yes, sir.”
They knew the commandments.
They participated in worship.
They knew the traditions.
They looked like people who were working in the Father's vineyard.
But when God called them to respond, they wouldn't move.
And then Jesus says something especially tragic:
“And when you saw it, you did not afterward relent and believe him.”
When you saw it.
They saw lives changing.
They saw people repenting.
They saw evidence of grace at work.
And still they wouldn't surrender.
Their problem wasn't a lack of evidence.
Their problem was that accepting what God was doing would require them to admit that they needed repentance too.
And sometimes that's harder for religious people than we'd like to admit.
After you've spent years following the rules, it's easy to begin thinking repentance is something other people need.
Repentance is for the person who's really messed up.
Repentance is for the person whose life has fallen apart.
Repentance is for the person who hasn't been inside a church for twenty years.
Repentance is for them.
But Jesus looks at the most religious people in the room and says:
You need to turn too.
There is no point in our Christian lives when we graduate from being responsive to God.
There is never a moment when we can say:
“Lord, I've been following You long enough. Surely there's nothing left for You to change.”
In fact, the closer we walk with Jesus, the more willing we ought to become to pray:
“Lord, if there is something in me that doesn't look like You, show me.”
That's part of holiness.
Holiness isn't reaching a point where God can no longer teach us anything.
Holiness is loving God so completely that when He puts His finger on something, our answer is:
“Yes, Lord.”
And this connects directly with what we talked about last week—the scandal of grace.
Grace reaches the person whose life is a mess.
Grace reaches the person with a past.
Grace reaches the person everybody else has written off.
But here's the other side of the scandal:
Grace also reaches religious people who need to repent.
None of us stands beyond the need for grace.
And none of us stands beyond the reach of grace.
Jesus isn't dividing humanity into good people and bad people.
He's revealing the difference between those who will respond to God and those who will not.
The Father is still calling.
So the question isn't:
“What have you done in your past?”
The question is:
“What will you do with Jesus now?”
Who Is Actually Leading My Life?
And that brings us back to where we started.
Who has the right to lead my life?
Most of us would quickly say:
“Jesus does.”
And I believe we mean it.
But this parable asks us to go deeper than the words we say.
Because the second son said the right words:
“I go, sir.”
His problem was that his life went another direction.
So perhaps the question isn't simply:
“Do I call Jesus Lord?”
Maybe it's:
“Does Jesus actually get the final word?”
There are plenty of voices competing to lead our lives.
Fear can lead us.
Our past can lead us.
Anger can lead us.
Comfort can lead us.
Other people's expectations can lead us.
And sometimes the strongest voice of all is simply:
“This is what I want.”
But following Jesus means placing all those voices beneath one voice.
His.
And remember who is asking for authority over your life.
This is the One who loved you enough to go to the cross.
This is the One who sought you when you were wandering.
This is the One whose grace was working before you even knew His name.
This is the One who forgives.
The One who restores.
The One who calls us His own.
This is the One asking us to follow.
If I can trust Jesus with my eternity, surely I can trust Him with my Tuesday morning.
If I can trust Him with my soul, I can trust Him with my plans.
If I believe He loved me enough to die for me, then I can trust Him when He leads me somewhere I wouldn't have chosen for myself.
He's not leading me away from life.
He's leading me toward life.
And that changes how we understand surrender.
Surrender isn't losing to Jesus.
Surrender is trusting Jesus.
It's opening our hands and saying:
“Lord, You have the right to lead me.”
Conclusion
For the past several weeks, we've been asking what it means to follow Jesus.
We began with His question:
“Who do you say that I am?”
And Peter answered:
“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Then we discovered the cost of following.
Jesus told us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Him.
He taught us about life together—that following Him changes how we treat one another.
He taught us the freedom of forgiveness—that people who have received mercy become people who give mercy.
Last week, in the scandal of grace, we discovered a God whose generosity isn't measured by what we deserve.
And now, at the end of this journey, we're back where discipleship always brings us.
Jesus says:
“Follow Me.”
Not admire Me.
Not merely agree with Me.
Not simply sing about Me.
Follow Me.
And perhaps the Holy Spirit is putting His finger on something in your life this morning.
Maybe there's an area where you've been saying:
“Lord, anything but that.”
Maybe it's a relationship.
A resentment.
A habit.
A fear.
A plan.
Maybe you've given Jesus almost everything, but there's one room where you've quietly kept the door closed.
And Jesus isn't standing outside that door to condemn you.
He's calling you.
“Follow Me.”
Remember the first son.
He said no.
He got it wrong.
But that wasn't the end of his story.
“Afterward he regretted it and went.”
Your first answer does not have to be your final answer.
Maybe you've been telling God no for years.
You can say yes today.
Maybe you've been telling Him no all week.
You can say yes today.
That's grace.
And maybe the prayer this morning doesn't need to be complicated.
Maybe it's simply:
“Jesus, You have the right to lead my life.”
Where You lead, I'll follow.
What You show me, I'll surrender.
Where I need to change, give me grace to change.
Where I've said no, help me say yes.
Not because I'm trying to earn Your love.
But because I already know that I am loved.
And because I've discovered that You can be trusted.
Church, following Jesus doesn't mean we always get it right the first time.
It doesn't mean we never struggle.
It doesn't mean we never have questions.
It means that beneath all the questions, all the struggles, all the failures, and all the uncertainties, there is a settled direction to our lives:
I'm following Jesus.
Wherever He leads.
Whatever He asks.
Whatever needs surrendered.
I'm following Jesus.
So after all these weeks of asking what it means to follow Him, perhaps there's only one question left:
Who has the right to lead my life?
And may our answer not simply be something we say with our mouths.
May we say it with our choices.
With our relationships.
With our priorities.
With our obedience.
With our whole lives.
Jesus, You have the right to lead me.
And by Your grace,
I will follow.
- - Matthew 21:23–32NKJV

Exodus 17:1–7NKJV

Philippians 2:1–13NKJV

Who Has the Right to Lead My Life?

We Like Jesus' Authority Until It Challenges Ours

Saying “Yes” to Jesus Isn't the Same as Following Jesus

Grace Is Received by Those Willing to Respond

Who Is Actually Leading My Life?

Conclusion

Matthew 21:23–32NKJV