Line Upon LineLine Upon Line
Luke 14

Why Do You Serve? | Sunday, November 8, 2026

November 8, 2026 · Pastor Miles DeBenedictis

In this teaching

Jesus, dining at a Pharisee's house on the Sabbath, heals a sick man and then teaches about honor, humility, and motivation—showing that we serve not merely out of duty or for immediate reward, but for the eternal reward from God, in response to the grace of the One who invited us, the undeserving, to His table.

  • The question of motivation—"Why do I serve?"—is answered neither by bare duty nor by seeking an immediate, selfish reward.
  • Jesus affirms that we should act with a view to reward, but the right reward is eternal and comes from God, not from those watching now.
  • Don't grab the honor (pride loses the high place), and don't fake humility (false modesty used to get recognition).
  • Generosity should not be a ladder for reciprocity; do good for those who cannot repay you, looking to the resurrection of the just.
  • Christ is our pattern: He humbled Himself for the joy set before Him, and God therefore exalted Him.
  • Reframe the question from "Why do I serve?" to "Who do I serve and why?"—we serve the Lord Christ in response to His grace, awaiting the reward of the inheritance.

Readable is a lightly edited reading copy; Verbatim stays close to the spoken words. The audio and video are the record of what was said.

Now it happened, as He went into the house of one of the rulers of the Pharisees to eat bread on the Sabbath, that they watched Him closely. And behold, there was a certain man before Him who had dropsy. And Jesus... said to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, "Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?" But they kept silent. And He took him and healed him, and let him go... So He told a parable to those who were invited, when He noted how they chose the best places, saying to them: "When you are invited by anyone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in the best place... But when you are invited, go and sit down in the lowest place... For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." Then He also said to him who invited Him, "When you give a dinner or a supper, do not ask your friends... lest they also invite you back and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you; for you shall be repaid at the resurrection of the just." ()

Why do we serve? Jesus answers a question we all eventually face—and His answer challenges both our nature and our culture.

A Passage We Nearly Cruise Past

The first fourteen verses of can seem like a section you cruise right over, as though there's nothing of great importance here. But I think there is a very important truth that confronts us—one that answers a question we all face at some point. It's a question of motivation. Why do the good thing? Why serve? Why do what is difficult, even when I know it's the right thing to do?

Hardly a week goes by without an announcement asking you to be involved—a short-term trip, hospitality ministry, children's ministry. There seems to be a never-ending list of things to be done. Part of us feels, "I know I need to do that." And at the end of every announcement time we say, "Let's worship the Lord with our giving." So we're confronted with the question: Why do I serve? Why do I give? Why do I do what I know is good?

Duty or Reward?

The immediate answer feels obvious: because it's the right thing to do. There's a dutiful aspect—"it is my duty to do the right and good thing." And there's truth to that. To answer in the other direction—"I do this because I want a reward"—feels selfish and unspiritual.

Some of this comes from the culture we were raised in. Life here in the United States is heavily influenced by the Protestant, Puritanical ethic, and the idea of duty is driven into us. I was also raised in a church world that carried that same mindset. So there's a strong push to do the right thing simply because it's right.

But when I think about that, I'm confronted with a couple of problems. One is right here in . Jesus doesn't just seem to—He outright makes clear—that you ought to do certain things because of a reward. That sounds selfish and unspiritual. But Jesus would never exhort us to do something selfish and unspiritual. So my instinct that I should act from duty and not for reward actually runs against the teaching of Jesus.

Beautiful Roses Are a Contradiction

Years ago, John Piper put words to a feeling I'd had for a long time. In Desiring God, he imagines coming home on his anniversary, December 21st, and handing his wife a dozen long-stem red roses. She lights up: "Oh, Johnny, they're so beautiful!" And he responds, "Well, it is my duty as your husband to give you these roses." Beautiful roses are a contradiction. What wife would say, "Oh, thanks, I appreciate that"?

Or, as a Baptist pastor put it last century, the same words with a different tone change everything. Right before bed I could turn to my wife and say, "I must kiss you goodnight." The exact same words—but a very different response, and a very different reward. So the beautiful thing is not always the right heart or the right motivation. We find ourselves genuinely conflicted: Why do I serve? Why do I do the good thing?

The Hardest Commands

One of the hardest commands in the Bible comes from Paul in my favorite chapter, : "Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself." We live in a self-interested culture—but humanity has always been that way. Who's the first person you look at in a family picture? You judge the whole picture by how you look. Thank God for Photoshop, or even AI—you can make yourself look great, maybe not entirely like you, but great.

And what reason does Paul give for doing this? "Fulfill my joy by being like-minded." He's saying, "Make me, Pastor Paul, really happy by doing this." Now, this week, I'm sure the first thing going through your mind as you do the right thing will be, "I want to make Pastor Miles really happy." That's not in the top fifty reasons you'll do the right thing. Yet Paul says it. Is that the right motivation? Jesus's answer in is worth contemplating.

The Scene at the Pharisee's House

The setting is easy to imagine. Jesus is traveling the region of Galilee—Bethsaida, Capernaum, Tiberias. On a Sabbath, everyone would go to the synagogue, and a well-known rabbi would be asked to read and teach. At the end of the day, in a hospitality-focused culture, the rulers—here, the Pharisees—would invite him home for a feast. It was the expected thing. So Jesus comes to the Pharisee's house.

Immediately He's confronted with a man who has dropsy—we'd say edema today. It doesn't sound good, and it's evident this man has a serious problem. It almost seems like a plant, a Sabbath-day setup. They watched Him closely, scrutinizing Him. Let me say as a side point: if you're a follower of Jesus, expect to be scrutinized. People are watching how you act, react, and interact in every situation.

They already knew what He would do, because in the previous chapter He healed a woman bent over on the Sabbath and the Pharisees got upset. His response here echoes His response there. In chapter 13 He called them hypocrites: "Does not each one of you on the Sabbath loose his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it away to water?" As Pastor Jason pointed out last month, they'd loose a donkey but not a daughter of Abraham. They'd work to save their own animals but not a suffering person.

Turning the Tables

There's no better way to dumbfound your detractors than for them to watch you do good things that expose their own indecency. So Jesus heals the man. And in their minds, "We've got one more thing for the list of indictments—He worked on the Sabbath." That's exactly the evidence they will later bring before Caiaphas.

Now Jesus turns the tables. They were scrutinizing Him; now He scrutinizes them. He noted how they chose the best places. We can point the finger at Pharisees 2,000 years ago for positioning themselves—but we're all guilty of the same thing. Remember choosing teams for kickball? You didn't want to be chosen last. Walk into a wedding reception and you scan the seating: "Good, I'm at table five—not like those poor people at table twenty-one." There's an impulse in us to position ourselves well.

Don't Grab the Honor

Jesus's story isn't new. He surfaces Solomon's words from a thousand years earlier, : "Do not exalt yourself in the presence of the king... for it is better that he say to you, 'Come up here,' than that you should be put lower in the presence of the prince." Every lawyer and scribe in that room knew those words.

Pride pushes us to take the high place, but pride also often costs us that place. Imagine being told, "I'm so sorry, that seat's not for you," as everyone watches you get seated lower. Far better to take the lower seat and have the master say, "Why are you seated here? I have a place for you." In an honor-and-shame culture, this teaching lands with force. Point one: don't grab the honor. Whether you live in first-century Galilee or twenty-first-century San Diego, don't grab the honor.

Don't Fake the Humility

What's the counterpole? "When you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when he who invited you comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, go up higher.'" There's a reward for the one who does the right thing—"he who humbles himself will be exalted." And where does exaltation ultimately come from? From God. The "you will be exalted" points back to the One who has the ability to exalt.

But be careful. There's a way to read this and turn it into the "humble brag"—intentionally taking the lower seat through a strange psychology, hoping others will say, "Oh no, you're so great, you belong higher!" That's false humility: acting like a nobody while hoping deep down someone will insist you're somebody. Charles Spurgeon observed that in the church of God, the way upward is downward. But servanthood isn't easy—the test of servanthood is when people actually treat you like a servant. Point two: don't fake the humility. This is the narrow road: don't grab the honor for yourself, and don't use humility as a tool to get what you want.

Generosity Is Not a Ladder

In Jesus shifts from the guests to the host: "When you give a dinner... do not ask your friends, your brothers, your relatives, nor rich neighbors, lest they also invite you back and you be repaid." He's not saying never invite people you enjoy. He's confronting the motivation—inviting them only for what you can get in return. We're all tempted by this. We do the good deed half-hoping the law of reciprocity kicks in and we'll get what we really want.

Jesus gets to the heart of the matter by dealing with the matter of the heart. This problem is ancient. Aristotle taught doing good to gain advantage with people; Machiavelli did the same; so does The 48 Laws of Power in our own day—some of you have it on your shelf; I have it on my Kindle. Jesus says generosity is not a ladder, and humility is not a move you play at the right moment to get ahead.

Which Reward, and From Whom?

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said not to do your good deeds to be seen by men—"you have your reward"—yet in the same breath He said to do your deeds before your Father who sees in secret, "and He will reward you openly." So which is it—for a reward or not for a reward? The answer is yes. The real question is: which reward, and from whom?

As Spurgeon put it, if you do someone a kindness to gain their gratitude, you'll probably be disappointed—and even if you succeed, "you have burned your firework. You have seen the brief blaze, and there's an end of it." You can choose the immediacy of a reward from those who can nudge you forward now, or you can do your gift before your Father who sees in secret, and He will reward you a hundredfold in its time (). Point three: don't expect your reward now.

The Resurrection of the Just

"When you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind." Sounds like a lame party. "And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you." Then why invite them? Here's the key word: for. "For you shall be repaid at the resurrection of the just."

So does Jesus teach we should serve for nothing because it's our duty? No—beautiful roses are a contradiction. That "for nothing" mindset is the philosophy of duty. Immanuel Kant taught that hoping for a reward ruins the moral worth of a good deed; you should act only because it is virtuous. That's no different from the ancient Stoics. And where did that idea first appear? : "Does Job fear God for nothing?" "For nothing" is the accuser's standard. Jesus doesn't teach that. There is a repayment—but it comes at the resurrection, from the One from whom we most deeply desire it.

So store up treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves do not steal, "for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Look toward the eternal reward that does not fade, not the temporary one that will burn with this world.

Follow the One Who Served You

Why would anyone take the lower seat? Paul answers by pointing to the pattern: "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God... made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant... And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross." Therefore God highly exalted Him and gave Him the name above every name.

Why did He do it? Hebrews tells us: "who for the joy set before Him endured the cross." Not merely for the virtue of it, but for the reward—the joyful reward of us, and the joyful reward of the Father's glory. Jesus took the low seat, and the Father came and said, "Friend, go up higher." Point four: follow the One who served you, and wait for His reward.

Who Do I Serve, and Why?

Next week we'll see the setting continue—Jesus still at the Pharisee's house—telling of a master whose feast is snubbed by those invited, who then fills his house with the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind. Who is that? That's us. He invited the ones who would never otherwise get an invitation, who feel they don't belong, into His kingdom. He opened the way.

Having received the grace of His invitation, what do we do? In one sense, yes, it is our duty—but we do it unto the Lord. "Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him" (). So this week, reframe the question—from why do I serve, to who do I serve and why?

The cultural answer is: serve yourself, because no one else is looking out for you; you're the master of your own destiny. Or: serve the person in power who can see you and lift you up. But Paul says, "You serve the Lord Christ." And "whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ" ().

Who do I serve? The One who served me and opened the way by His grace. Why? Knowing I will receive the reward of the inheritance from Him. So it's not merely out of duty—it's in response to His goodness, grace, and love, that He invited me, the utterly undeserving, to His table.

Closing Prayer

Jesus, You taught in the Sermon on the Mount that we should do the difficult and hard things, even if it means suffering for Your name, and that we should rejoice and be exceedingly glad, knowing great is our reward in heaven. Lord, You do not say it's a selfish thing to serve for the reward—if it is the eternal reward coming from You. So, God, help us to reframe for a moment who it is that we serve and why. Help us to think about it this week, and even to contemplate who the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind are that You are seeking for us to reach in our day and time. And would You stir us by Your love for us to reach out to them. For we ask it in Jesus' name. And all those that agreed said, Amen.

Scripture in this teaching

6

Passages opened in this message

Related teachings

12

Other messages that open the same passages