Scripture Reading: Luke 17:11-19
On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” And he said to him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”
The Ten Lepers: Why One Samaritan's Gratitude Reveals the Gospel's True Power
By James Huenink
Introduction: A Story We Often Misunderstand
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Today we explore one of the most famous stories in Scripture: Jesus and the ten lepers. This narrative appears in Luke's Gospel and typically gets read around Thanksgiving, which often shapes how churches interpret it. But this timing can mask what Luke is really trying to teach us.
When discussing this text with fellow pastors, I realized something important: Luke isn't primarily emphasizing gratitude or thankfulness in the way we celebrate on Thanksgiving. Instead, Luke—the same author who wrote the book of Acts—is exploring a theme that appears repeatedly throughout his writings: the contrast between those who embrace the gospel with joy and those who, despite having received God's promises, turn away in search of something else.
Understanding Luke's Real Message: Outsiders and Insiders
The central insight of this passage isn't "be thankful." Rather, it's a warning about the joy that people outside the faith experience when they finally encounter the peace of God—and how those of us used to receiving that peace can gradually grow complacent and start looking for something more.
The Story: A Healing on the Road to Jerusalem
Jesus is traveling toward Jerusalem, where he will suffer and die. Along the route between Samaria and Galilee, he encounters a village where ten lepers call out to him from a distance. Luke notes this detail deliberately: they stand apart because their disease keeps them from approaching anyone who is clean.
Jesus tells them simply: "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they walk away, they are healed—Luke uses the word "cleansed."
Yet something remarkable happens next. Of the ten healed lepers, only one turns back. He rushes to Jesus, falls down, and praises God loudly, giving thanks. And this person, Luke tells us pointedly, was a Samaritan.
The Key to Understanding: Samaritan as Foreigner
Jesus asks the crucial question: "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return to give praise to God, except this foreigner?"
To understand this passage, we must grasp what "Samaritan" and "foreigner" mean in this context. While we often think of "foreigner" in terms of citizenship and nation-states, Jesus is drawing a different distinction. Both the Jews and the Samaritan lived under Roman rule, but the division wasn't political—it was spiritual.
The true division was this: The Jews were in the covenant, possessed God's promises, knew the scriptures, and had a high position in the covenant community. The Samaritan stood outside all of this.
The distinction is less like "citizen and non-citizen" and more like "Christian and non-Christian."
A Pattern Throughout Luke's Gospel and Acts
This theme of insiders rejecting the gospel while outsiders embrace it runs throughout Luke's entire work:
Early in the Gospel, Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners, saying, "Those who are healthy do not need a doctor, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." The only person Jesus commends for having faith he hasn't seen in all of Israel is not a Pharisee or priest—but a Roman centurion, a foreigner who understands more than the religious establishment.
The story of Zacchaeus follows this same pattern. The tax collector climbs a tree to see Jesus and, when Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus's house, everyone is scandalized. Yet Zacchaeus hears Jesus and immediately repents, offering to repay everything he stole—something none of the scribes or Pharisees did.
In the book of Acts, this pattern accelerates. After Pentecost, the Jewish community begins persecuting the church, scattering the disciples. What happens next is striking: the gospel finds amazing success in Samaria and among the Gentiles. Throughout Acts, we see this repeating cycle: Paul arrives in a new town, the Gentiles receive the message with enthusiasm and joy, then the Jewish establishment stirs up opposition and chases him to the next city.
The Warning for Modern Christians: The Danger of Taking Grace for Granted
Here's what I believe Luke is warning us about: The Jews had everything going for them. They had God's word, His promises, the patriarchs, and the law. Yet when Jesus—the very point of it all—appeared, they did not hear from Him. They turned away.
For those of us raised in the Christian faith, this should be sobering. Many of us have grown accustomed to the Word of God, accustomed to the healing Jesus offers, accustomed to the peace we've been given. And in our familiarity, we begin to search for something more—some powerful religious experience, some sign that God is truly present.
The Gospel's Radical Promise: It's Already Done
The heart of the gospel is this: Your work is finished. Christ did it all through His death and resurrection.
There is no spiritual ladder to climb into heaven. There is no work you must accomplish to earn God's favor. There is no powerful spiritual experience necessary to prove that God is with you. Christ has completed it all on the cross. Your salvation is finished, and He gives it to you here and now through Word and Sacrament.
But here's the problem: these gifts seem too small, too simple, too ordinary. God hides His power in modest, unimpressive things—in wine and wafers, in spoken words, in water and bread. It doesn't feel powerful enough. It doesn't generate the kind of overwhelming religious experience many of us crave.
The Church's Long History of Seeking "Something More"
The history of Christianity is, in many ways, a history of people asking: "Shouldn't there be something more?"
Throughout the ages, across Lutheran, Reformed, and other traditions, this question resurfaces. Shouldn't the church be holier? Shouldn't it be more powerful? Shouldn't it be more exciting than just bread and wine and ordinary people?
This dissatisfaction has produced waves of movements:
The Great Awakening (1850s-1890s) gave rise to groups like the Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses, all seeking experiences beyond what the traditional church offered.
The Pietists within Lutheranism divided the church between "regular Christians" and the "awakened"—those who truly understood that normal church life simply wasn't enough.
Over and over, movements have arisen claiming that Word and Sacrament aren't sufficient. They look for new practices, new experiences, new heights of holiness to reach.
But this is precisely the temptation the Samaritan leper avoided. He didn't ask for something more. He simply received his cleansing with overwhelming joy and gave thanks.
Why Outsiders See What Insiders Miss
Why did the Samaritan respond with such joy when nine others didn't? Because he had no expectations. He wasn't used to God's grace. He hadn't grown accustomed to it. When he experienced it, he was astounded.
The Gentiles and Samaritans who heard the gospel in Acts weren't burdened by expectations of a powerful military messiah who would overthrow the Romans. They came to the gospel as outsiders, desperate and hopeful. When they heard that Christ had finished the work, that salvation was free, that they didn't need to earn God's favor—they were transformed by joy.
For many of us who grew up in Christian traditions, we've had access to these gifts our entire lives. We hear the gospel proclaimed week after week. We take the Sacraments for granted. And in our complacency, we wander off searching for spiritual experiences that will finally convince us that God is real.
The Hidden Power of Weakness
Here's where it gets profound: God has always hidden His greatest power in apparent weakness.
When Jesus walked the earth, He was unimpressive. He was just a regular man. His divinity was concealed in flesh and bone. His kingship over all creation was hidden under the guise of an itinerant preacher with no home, no wealth, no worldly power. He walked toward a cross, toward humiliation and death.
And God still operates this way. He hides His almighty power in Word and Sacrament—in things that seem fragile and simple and far from impressive to our modern sensibilities.
A Call to Reclaim the Joy
My invitation to you today is this: Remember the power that Christ gives through His Word and Sacraments. This is a gift delivered completely free of charge, with no work required, given to you by a Savior who died on the cross.
There is no checklist to complete. There are no boxes to tick. There is no pathway of righteousness you must climb to earn your way into heaven.
There is simply a Savior who died for you, rose for you, and gives you eternal life as a pure gift.
If you're new to this tradition of faith, you may understand something that those of us who grew up in it have forgotten: what an astounding, radical, joyful thing it is to be told that it is finished, your work is done. Rest.
And for those of us who have grown accustomed to this grace, perhaps we can reclaim something of that Samaritan's joy. Perhaps we can remember, again and again, that what we have in Christ is more than enough—because in Him, we have everything.
In Christ's name, Amen.
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