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Duty Calls

Rev. Rebecca DePoe

The Presbyterian Church of Coraopolis

October 5, 2025

Our Scripture reading for this morning comes from the gospel of Luke, Chapter 17, beginning in verse 5. Hear now the word of God:

Luke 17:5–10 (NRSV)

5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 6 The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. 7 “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? 8 Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? 9 Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”

This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.  

I imagine that all of us in this room want more faith. At some point in our lives, we’ve probably all prayed- like the apostles- “Lord, increase our faith!” 

We want more faith to see how God is at work in our world when so much seems broken. We want more faith so that when hard things happen, we can trust we’re not suffering in vain. We want more faith to believe we are bound together in Christ, even when the divisions in our culture or even in our own families feel overwhelming.  

Faith, we assume is something we need more of if we’re going to survive.  

But in a classic Lukan twist, Jesus tells us we already have enough. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed,” he says, “you could tell this mulberry tree to uproot itself and be planted in the sea, and it would obey you.” In other words; you don’t need a superhuman reservoir of faith. You don’t need a vault full of trust stored up for emergencies. God has already given you what you need.  

That may not feel true some days. But Jesus insists:  faith, even in its smallest form, is sufficient.  

And I think the reason Jesus presses this point here.  Is because he’s just finished talking about one of the hardest things disciples ever have to do: forgive.

I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word- forgiveness- my stomach tightens. It is not easy.  

Forgiveness is not pretending nothing happened. It’s not saying “it’s fine” when it’s not. Forgiveness is choosing, with God’s help to release resentment. It is ceasing to let another person’s sin against us define our present and determine our future.  

And that is incredibly difficult.  

Because resentment fells like power. Resentment whispers, “If I hold on to this anger, maybe the betrayal will sting less.” But in truth, resentment only deepens the wound.  

Which is why forgiveness is not optional in Christian community. It is essential. It is the only way we can keep living together without being crushed by the weight of old hurts and unhealed wounds.  

Last month, I was invited to give the pastoral charge at a friend’s installation service. The pastoral charge is kind of like the best man’s speech at a wedding. You want it to be warm, a little funny, but also full of wisdom the new pastor can carry with her as she begins a new call.  

As I charged her, I kept circling back to this one thing “love these people.” 

Because every pastor- and honestly every disciple- will eventually be called to love people who are difficult to love. It’s so tempting to only love the bright, shiny, cute, helpful parts of another person. But all of us have parts that are prickly, selfish, defensive, or insecure. And the call is to love people as they are. Even the parts we try to hide.  

Church is one of the last places left in American life where people with different politics, different incomes, different life stories, actually sit in the same room together. And that is beautiful. But it also guarantees conflict.  

We are called not just to love the people we admire, but to love across difference. To love the neighbor who votes differently than you. To love the parent who raises her kids differently than you raised yours. To love the person who grew up in a different era, who doesn’t understand your world. To love the person who criticizes you, talks about you, or wounds you.  

And the only way to love across that kind of divide is to let go of resentment. But how do we do that?

Here’s where Jesus’ mustard seed comes in.  

Because forgiveness isn’t natural. It isn’t easy. It isn’t something we muster up on our own. Forgiveness is an act of faith.  

Faith that because of Jesus, no one is beyond redemption. 

Faith that if we turn our resentment over to God, God will carry it for us.

Faith that someone else’s hurtful behavior is more about their pain than about our worth.  

Forgiveness requires faith because it asks us to believe something bigger than the wound in front of us.  

And friends, let me be clear: forgiveness is not fast. Sometimes it takes months or years. Sometimes the most faithful step we can take is simply praying, “God, I want to forgive. Help me want to forgive.” That alone is mustard-seed faith.  

When I’m sitting down to write my sermons I like to look back through my notes and see if I’ve preached other sermons on the passage I’m about to preach on. Turns out I last preached a sermon on Luke 17 in October 2019.  

Back then our nation was already polarized. But in the years since, we’ve lived through a pandemic that reshaped how we relate to one another. We’ve seen the rise of conspiracy theories and how they’ve torn families apart. We’ve watched social media feed resentment like wildfire.  

And even in the church, we are not immune.  

Maybe you have felt the sting of a careless comment from a fellow Christian. Maybe you’ve been hurt by someone dismissing your deepest convictions. Maybe you’ve been on the receiving end of gossip, criticism, or betrayal in the very place you expected to find grace.  

It is tempting to walk away. To cancel, cut off, or quietly disappear.  

But the gospel calls us deeper. Not to tolerate abuse or deny justice- but to refuse to let resentment have the final word. To take the risk of forgiveness, however small, trusting that God can multiply even a mustard seed of faith into a tree of life.

The second half of our passage, about servants doing their duty, can sound harsh. But I think Jesus’ point is that forgiveness isn’t extra credit for Christians. It’s simply what it means to follow him.  

Not because God is a harsh master demanding obedience, but because forgiveness is the only way the community survives.  

If we want to keep walking together as the body of Christ, forgiveness cannot be optional. It is the ordinary everyday work of discipleship. 

I’ll be honest with you: forgiveness is not something I have mastered. In fact, I am still very much learning. Some of you know that my last call ended in a painful way. There were moments of deep disappointment and broken trust with my co-senior pastors. For a while, I carried a lot of resentment about that. I thought if I held onto it, maybe it would give me the energy I needed to start over in a new call. But really, it only served to weigh me down.  

These days, I’ve started the process of forgiving them. And I’ll tell you- it’s not quick and it’s not clean. When I saw them at the Presbytery meeting last Thursday, I could literally feel my heart race and my palms sweat. Forgiveness doesn’t erase the hurt or pretend it never happened. But it does open a door for me to walk through without carrying the weight of resentment into a new season of ministry.  

That’s why I believe Jesus when he says even mustard-seed faith is enough. Because forgiveness doesn’t begin with us being ready or strong. It begins with God giving us just enough faith to face our former colleagues at Presbyery meetings. Because we trust God will be with us in the discomfort.  

Maybe you know what I mean. Maybe you’ve been carrying something for years- a wound, a betrayal, a bitterness you can’t shake.  

What if today is the day you take the first step? Not the final step, but the first? What if you trusted that God has already given you enough faith to begin?  

Even the tiniest seed of faith is enough to begin the word of forgiveness. And when we forgive- when we release resentment, when we choose to love these people- we are not just being “nice.” We are participating in the very redemption of the world.  

So who in your life do you need to forgive? What resentment do you need to release? What mustard-seed step can you take today? 

Don’t wait for more faith. Don’t wait for the other person to repent. Don’t wait for the wound to stop hurting.  

Begin. 

Because God has already given you enough. 

Thanks be to God.  

In Jesus’ name, 

Amen.