Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Matthew 21:23 - 32

23 When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” 
24 Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. 
25 Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why, then, did you not believe him?’ 
26 But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd, for all regard John as a prophet.” 
27 So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.
The Parable of the Two Sons
28 “What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ 
29 He answered, ‘I will not,’ but later he changed his mind and went. 
30 The father went to the second and said the same, and he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but he did not go. 
31 Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. 
32 For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him, and even after you saw it you did not change your minds and believe him.

Introduction

 
There is a particular kind of confrontation happening in this passage, and it is worth sitting with before we get to the parable itself. 

The chief priests and elders come to Jesus not with a question born of curiosity, but with a question meant to trap him. 

"By what authority?" 

They already know the answer they want. 

They are not seeking truth; they are seeking leverage.

As He often does, Jesus sees through it instantly. 

He does not dodge because he is unprepared — he dodges because he refuses to hand ammunition to people who have already decided not to believe him regardless of what he says. 

And then, almost as if to prove his point, he tells a short, simple, devastating story about two sons and two answers.

This story is not really about vineyards. 


It is about the gap between what we say and what we do — and about who actually closes that gap.

I. The Danger of the Right Answer

The second son in the parable says exactly what a good son should say. 


"I go, sir." 


No hesitation, no defiance, no embarrassing scene in front of the neighbors. 
If you were grading the two sons on their initial response alone, the second son wins easily.

But the father did not ask for a well-worded reply. 

He asked for work in the vineyard.

This is aimed squarely at the religious leadership Jesus is speaking to. 

They have the right vocabulary. 

They know the law, the prophets, the correct liturgical answers. 

They can recite what obedience to God is supposed to sound like. 

But John the Baptist came preaching repentance — a call to actually go into the vineyard — and the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him, while the people who said all the right things did not move.

It is worth asking ourselves honestly: how much of our own faith is the second son's "I go, sir"? 

We can sing the songs, say the creeds, post the verses, and still never walk into the vineyard. 

Correct words cost us nothing. 

A changed life costs something.

II. The Grace Hidden in the First Son

The first son's story is not a triumphant one. 

He starts with an outright refusal — "I will not." 

That is real defiance, real disrespect, spoken to his father's face. 

If the parable ended there, he would simply be the bad son.

But something happens next that the text almost passes over quietly: he changed his mind. 

The Greek word carries a sense of regret, of being turned around. 

He reconsiders, and he goes.

This is the son Jesus praises — not because his first answer was good, but because his story did not end with his first answer. 

And this is the gospel hiding inside this parable. 

God is not primarily interested in whether we started well. 

He is interested in whether we end up in the vineyard. 

The tax collectors and prostitutes Jesus names had plenty of "I will not" in their history — lives built on refusal, on saying no to God in ways far more visible and scandalous than polite religious people ever manage. 

But when John called them to repentance, they turned. 

They went.

There is real mercy here for anyone carrying the weight of a bad start — a wasted decade, a defiant youth, a long season of saying no to God in one way or another. 

The parable does not ask, "How did you begin?" 

It asks, "Did you go?”

III. Belief That Moves

Notice what Jesus identifies as the actual dividing line: not who had better theology, not who occupied the more respectable position in society, but who believed John enough to be moved by him. 

"John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him" — this is the accusation laid against the religious leaders. 

Their unbelief was not a lack of information. 

They had every advantage of knowledge, training, and access to the Scriptures. 

Their unbelief showed up in their feet. 

They simply never went.

This is the uncomfortable center of the passage: belief that does not move you is not yet the belief the Bible is talking about. 

Saying "yes, Lord" is not evidence of faith. 

 

Going into the vineyard is.

 

Conclusion
 

So the question this text leaves each of us with is not "which son said the right thing?" — we already know that answer, and it didn't matter. 
 

The question is: which son are you being today? 
 

Are you offering God a polished "I go, sir" while the vineyard sits untouched? 

 

Or have you, somewhere in your story, said "I will not" and meant it — and is today 

the day you change your mind and go?
 

The tax collectors and the sinners are not praised in this passage for their past. 
 

They are praised because when the call came, they moved. 
 

That door has not closed. 
 

Whatever your first answer to God has been, the vineyard is still there, and so is the invitation to go.
 

Let us not be people of the right words only. 
 

Let us be people who go.